


Frying Pan or Fire, Something's Still Burning

by IceEckos12



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Minor Character Death, Suicidal Thoughts, eventual domestic exorcists, expanding the whole soul business that they briefly touch on in canon, how do you coma anyway, kanda got a bunch of kids and mellowed, komui is a good brother, lavi was in a coma, lenalee was the heart, link is a babe, lots and lots of panicking, multiple disabled characters, screwing with canon for my own purposes, the Innocence are conscious in a way, the fourteenth was a dick, the war is over but things aren't any easier, warnings for mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 23:59:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 88,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6830716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceEckos12/pseuds/IceEckos12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years ago, Nea won the fight for the body of Allen Walker. Five months ago, he finally killed the Millennium Earl. </p><p>Allen has just woken up after five months in a coma. His friends are strangers to him, Central is doing everything they can to scapegoat him, and there are massive holes in his memories that he doesn't know if he can get back. If he thought that things would be easier after the war had ended--well, that was his fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Nea came to the Black Order at dawn, in a tan trench coat and a sharp vest, his hair floating around his shoulders in a silver curtain. The sun backlit him just so, highlighting his darkly tanned skin and reflecting off his pearly white head like a halo, so that he looked almost like an angel. The irony of that was not lost on anyone.

Lenalee stepped forward to greet him, her chin tipped up proudly, her thin legs tensed, ready to activate her Innocence in a second. They were not enemies per se, but neither were they friends. Nea was not the Millennium Earl, who would always be their bane. Rather, he was the third side of the war, and his motives were his own. Sometimes these motives lined up with the Black Order’s, and sometimes they did not. Therefore the exorcists had come to refrain from attacking on sight, like they would the other Noah (not...that they could win if they did). Yet they also did not let down their guard, preparing to defend themselves if needed.

Nea smiled at her faintly, for a second his expression so close to his host’s that Lenalee had to look away. Then, he said in a voice that was as familiar as it was a stranger's, “The Millennium Earl is dead.”

Lenalee did not move, nor show any visible reaction. The only thing that changed was that Kanda and Krory had suddenly joined her, from one second to the next. The three of them all watched Nea with big, wide eyes, searching for a lie. 

“I suspected you wouldn't believe me,” Nea says conversationally, scratching his head sheepishly, like 'Oh it's terribly inconvenient that you don't believe me, but I suppose I have tried to kill you in the past, shall we let bygones be bygones?”. “So I brought Timcanpy with me. He recorded the entire thing.”

The little reconstructed Golemn, who Cross had apparently fixed--obviously reports of his death had been exaggerated--crawled out from his hiding place and onto the top of Nea’s head. There was a stiffness to Timcampy’s movements, however, that was out of place on the usually hyperactive creature. He sat there, little mouth working hard, before wearily opening his jaws to the sky and letting a projection flicker into being.

Lenalee grimaced a little; obviously Timcampy hadn't completely recovered, if he was exhausted after moving so little. She only wished she could help him, but Nea and the Golemn were a package deal, and there was no way she was trusting that Noah in their head quarters.

But then her thoughts were broken off by the sound of fighting, of muted screams and the clash of sword on sword. Timcampy’s recording was thin and poor quality, but it was effective enough at making his point. The exorcists watched Nea go through two, three Noah (and in the end Road was shown, falling, falling with Nea’s sword in her stomach, and Lenalee thought, _oh_.), and then finally the Earl fell, his face a wide, grinning mask of pure defeat.

The silence that deafened the area after Tim’s projection was consuming. This didn't feel like it was real, was the Earl really gone? This was a war that had been going on for a thousand years, surely the ending would be something more...more climatic? This wasn't right, was it?

Nea’s smile shifted, becoming a bit more bittersweet, which was odd because hadn't he just defeated his worst enemy? There were so many questions that had yet to be answered, so many secrets that had yet to be shared. “So you see, as a Golemn cannot lie, the Millennium Earl is dead.”

“So what's your damn point?” Kanda snapped, startling Lenalee--and Krory, evidentially, by the way he nearly jumped out of his own skin. But that was the question of the hour, and Lenalee turned to look at their sort-of-enemy, anxious for a response. 

“I...the Millennium Earl is not truly dead until I, too, die.” Nea admitted, jamming his thumbs into the pockets of his well-worn coat. He noticed the confused looks of the exorcists, and simply waved one hand dismissively. “Don't worry about it. It's sort of….ancient history.”

He sighed, and looked away. “I have….one more thing to do, though, before I die.” He pressed one hand to his heart, eyes distant and expression lax, despite the stony, belligerent glares of the exorcists. “This body...it's not mine. It still has a future. I'm giving him back to you.”

“What…” Lenalee stepped forward cautiously, hoping beyond hope that she hadn't misread this person, who sounded like he was saying… “What do you mean by that?”

Nea looked at her and finally, for the first time, a real smile broke across his face. “Allen's coming home.”

And then he fell over as though in slow motion, his eyes slowing shutting like the draw of velvet curtains, hair a blaze of lightning in the air behind him. Even as they watched, the deep tan that marked him as a Noah was fading, fading, leaving only pale, smooth porcelain in its wake. Lenalee’s Innocence activated the millisecond after she processed Nea’s words, and she buzzed forward at her fastest speed, meeting the body in its fall, cushioning it. Krory and Kanda were seconds behind her, dropping to their knees next to their Heart.

“You don't think….” Krory began, but stopped when the body suddenly let out a soft noise of pain, and arched in Lenalee's grip. Then Krory himself gasped quietly, bringing his hand to cover his mouth, and then there was a dry, clicking sound as--

“MAH PHEEPH!” He shrieked, and as the other two watched, shocked, streams of dust trickled from between his lips. The Innocence….had broken down? Then….

The body Lenalee was holding let out another soft cry, and then his left sleeve suddenly crumpled. There was a soft sliding sound, as the dust began to pool onto the hard stone that made up the courtyard. Lenalee and Kanda glanced at each other, eyes wide, knowing--knowing that if the Innocence no longer felt as though it was needed, then that really meant--

Deep, blue-grey eyes opened for the first time in two years. They blinked once, twice, before finally managing to focus on the world around them. His brows furrowed a little in surprise when he saw Lenalee above him, staring out at something he couldn’t see, expression shuttered and openly devastated all at once.

His right arm (and why did his left arm, usually so heavy at his side, feel so light?) reached up towards the face of his friend, determined to brush away that hurt look. When his tentative, trembling fingers found their destination, Lenalee’s pale cheek, she jumped about a mile. 

“Lenalee…?” Allen whispered, uncertain as to why she was looking at him like that. “Why….why are you crying?”

And before she could answer, he faded back into unconsciousness.

\-----

The end of the War was not actually the end of their problems--it was suspected that the exorcists would never be without their past snapping at their heels. While the Innocence had all crumbled into nothing (and Hevlaska had been a person before they’d been an innocence, and was still trying to remember how to walk on two legs), the soldiers who’d used them were still technically part of the Black Order. The generals were busy almost every day, searching the ends of the planet for any Akuma that might've survived the Earl’s destruction, armed with the very weapons they'd scorned the Finders for using. 

(Actually, not all Innocence had been destroyed. Lenalee’s blood anklets still clinked around her feet, and she somehow knew that if she truly wished it, she could reform all the Innocence and give them back to their owners. She knew that Central would try to push it, try to force her to bring back their loyal soldiers--but, well. She was far from the girl who'd needed to be rescued by her brother. She was the Heart of the Innocence, and she had faced horrors that Central couldn't even dream of. The only thing that was keeping her from destroying them was the fact that she wanted justice, not vengeance.)

The main problem, however, was figuring out what they were supposed to do with several generations of traumatized people, who had been so convinced that the war would go on forever that they had literally planned no actual future for themselves. The finders had to be reintegrated into their families, and the Order was generously footing the bill for their much needed therapy. The exorcists, most of which had no family, much less a home, had all been relocated to the Head Quarters in their specific region until a more permanent solution could be decided. The people who had been Parasitic Innocence types, of which there were luckily few, were the most trouble, simply because they were all suddenly walking around without arms or legs (or in Krory’s case, teeth--but he was already being fitted for dentures, so he was more fortunate than most).

There was another problem too, though, that...as long as it was handled correctly, would actually turn out to be quite profitable for the exorcists.

Because there were things that people were willing to overlook during wartime--mysterious disappearances, horrific experiments, flat out murder--but after the curtain call, the fact was that there were a lot of things people could blame the Black Order’s brass for. They might have wiggled out of it, if Lenalee and Kanda hadn't been so willing to share their experiences with the rest of the world.

And then there was Allen.

His official case had been open and shut: Lenalee said that Allen was innocent, with absolute certainty, and since she was the Heart, they believed her. 

His unofficial case was… Less open and shut. Because a lot of the fingers that were being pointed at the Black Order’s brass would've been pointed at Allen, if Lenalee had not stepped in. Because Kanda and sometimes Reever stood watch outside of his hospital room, glaring at anyone who was looking shifty. Because there were riots of finders and ex-exorcists in the streets some days, calling for Allen's imprisonment at the tamest, his grisly death at the most violent.

However, Allen had yet to wake from the coma Nea had left him in. It was a lot easier to judge a man for his actions when he wasn't around to explain or argue his case. That was probably the only reason they let Allen the Noah slide, because he wasn't causing them trouble, and refusing to let Lenalee’s friend live was just asking for her to turn her back on the Black Order entirely. No one needed to be reminded that when the girl put the world and a friend on a scale, the friend would outweigh every time. They still needed the Heart, and Allen was sleeping for the foreseeable future, so they let him be.

\---

Five months after the end of the battle, five months after Allen dropped into a wake-less sleep on their doorstep, three months after Levierre was put on trial for war crimes and one month after they finally were able to get him executed, Allen woke.

Or rather, he woke twice. 

The first time, the boy’s eyes fluttered open, and no one was there to greet him. He was...not in pain, exactly, but he was aware that something irreplaceable, somewhere, was missing.

He fell back into unconsciousness, still trying to figure out what it was.

A day passed, and Allen hovered just below the surface of awareness, letting the voices around him wash over his mind like waves on a beach. He was happy here, because it was calm, and quiet, and no one was hurting him. And also...somehow he could tell, that going out there meant pain, and that something was still missing, something that he needed. 

But even he could not fight to stay asleep forever. 

He finally relented and allowed himself to slowly awaken, like molasses being poured from a jar. Everything returned in slow increments; first voices became more distinct, understandable. Then he felt thick, starchy sheets on his skin, and the solid weight of air pressing down on all sides. Then light filtered in through his eyelids, and when the information finally hit his brain--

His eyes flickered open.

Or, one eye did. The curse eye was covered by a bandage of some sort, and stubbornly refused any attempts at movement.

The pale white sky of a hospital room was the first thing to greet him, familiar in the way all medical room ceilings were: so clinically clean and white that it was almost obsessive. Allen stared at it blankly, trying to figure out if this ceiling was any more familiar than the next. He had been in a great many hospital rooms before, so he had a wide selection of memories to choose from.

Not finding the ceiling to be very revealing, Allen let his head loll to one side, allowing him to get a look at the rest of the room. Which, unfortunately, did not hold any more information than the ceiling, because he was surrounded by a thick green privacy curtain. The only things that he could see were an IV drip embedded into his arm, and a vase of nearly wilted flowers on the bedside table next to him.

There were muffled voices coming from somewhere behind the curtain, and Allen tried to lever himself up, so he could figure out what, exactly, was going on. But--but when he tried, he just felt so weak, like he'd just spent a day training with Master and could barely move a muscle for fear of it spasming. And even worse, when he tried to use his arms to prop his torso up against his pillow, he somehow managed to unbalance himself and nearly face planted on the floor. As it was, he was currently sprawled over one side of the hospital bed, face jammed uncomfortably into his right shoulder.

“What the--” It had been years since his left arm had been so unfeeling and useless. It was almost like his Innocence wasn't even there anymore. Allen maneuvered himself as best he could with one arm, so he was once more lying, panting but horizontal, on the bed. He reached across his chest with his right arm, determined to try and massage some feeling back into the aforementioned left limb--

His hand met thin air.

It took him a moment for the realization to sink in, his fingers scrabbling uselessly at the ghost of a memory. And then it hit--Allen flung himself upright so he could look properly, grey eye wide and panicked, but there was nothing. There was only his shoulder, and then miles and miles of space that used to hold something very, very precious. His Innocence was--gone? Was this some twisted form of the Fallen, punishment for being a Noah? Why--

The curtains swished quietly, and then the voices that had been steadily growing clearer and closer, which Allen hadn't noticed in his panic, said, “We can't keep him here forever, you know. We need to move him somewhere--oh!”

Komui stopped in his tracks, eyes wide and round behind his glasses, the curtain still gripped in one hand. Seemingly oblivious to her brother's sudden pause, Lenalee said in a voice that dripped derision, “Anywhere else and he'd be dead within a week. I'm the only one who can--”

“Lenalee shut up.” Komui rushed forwards, a big grin on his face, and said, “Allen, welcome home!”

“Ko-Komui?” Allen squeaked, his right arm still clutching at the sleeve of his shoulder. He stared at the man he'd never expected to see again, and for the first time, wondered if he had ended up in the hospital of the new European Headquarters. It was a preposterous thought, considering how Allen had left them (Acrophos tracking him down, finders close behind him, accusations of “NOAH!” ringing in his ears). Also, Allen didn't know how long Nea had had control of his body; he had no idea who he'd hurt, what he'd done. Considering all these things, it was a wonder he wasn't rotting away in a jail cell.

“Allen!” Lenalee gasped, walking forward and dropping onto the side of his bed, face filled with open joy. However even as she approached, Allen realized that there was something odd about her, and not just the fact that her hair was short like it’d been after her first battle with the Level Three. There was something about her...face, maybe, or her eyes, that was harder, or harsher. It obviously hadn’t been too long since he’d last seen her, judging from her age, and yet the changes left him reeling at the unfamiliarity of it all. “When did you wake up? How are you feeling?”

Allen startled at that, suddenly remembering the reason for his panic. “I…” he swallowed hard and looked away, ashamed. “I'm sorry Lenalee.”

Her joy faded into a look of honest confusion. “Huh?”

“I don't have my Innocence anymore.” He said quietly, so lost in his own pain that he didn't hear the soft noises of realization from the siblings next to him. “I...it must have been the Noah, or something. Maybe the Innocence doesn't think I'm worthy anymore.” He shook his head. “I'm sorry.”

There was a moment of dead air, and Allen waited for pity, or disgust, or outright rejection. But after a second Komui let out a soft snort, and though Lenalee said, “Oh hush, you,” Allen couldn't help but look over at the man, feeling betrayed.

“Oh, I’m--” Komui looked like he was trying not to laugh, covering his mouth with one hand, mirth glittering behind his eyes. Allen...had to fight back tears, then, because he had no idea why Komui was laughing at him, but there it very obviously had something to do with the fact that he’d lost his Innocence. That was a cruelty too harsh to bear.

But then he caught sight of Allen’s face, and the amusement died instantly.“Oh Allen, I didn't mean it like that.” He said quietly, regret in the grimace of his mouth, and gently reached out with both his arms. Allen didn't realize the older man was going in for a hug until he was wrapped up in a warm embrace. It had been so long since he'd felt anyone’s kind touch, that it took him a second to remember to settle his right arm tentatively on Komui’s back. “Allen, your arm is gone because it's no longer needed. We won the war.”

Allen’s eye flew open wide. He looked to Lenalee for confirmation, who was watching him with warm fondness, a smile just touching the edges of her lips. She nodded.

Allen couldn't quite wrap his head around the idea. The war, over? The one he'd been training for since he'd first joined his master, basically the only thing he'd cared about for years? The Thousand Year war, which everyone had expected to last another thousand years, an eternity, was over? The one he'd bled for, nearly died for, dedicated his entire heart and soul to--that was over. 

He literally couldn't comprehend it. 

So instead he dropped his forehead to Komui’s shoulder, and let himself be held.


	2. Chapter 2

News of Allen’s awakening spread quickly. The reactions were mixed, to say the least.

“Allen, you don't know how happy I am that you're awake.” Reever told him as he carefully re-wrapped the bandage around Allen’s empty eye socket. It turned out that the eye, because it had belonged to Nea, had destroyed itself basically the day after Allen had fallen into a coma. Cleaning out the dust from the cavity had apparently been a long and disgusting process, which meant that Reever had handled it. “Johnny’s been home with family, and the Wonder Duo are gone every other day to clean up the messes that Central left behind.” 

The wonder duo being Komui, acting head of the European branch, and Lenalee, the apparent Heart. Allen couldn’t say that he was too shocked that Lenalee had turned out to be the Heart--in fact, he was pretty certain that no other person was as good a choice as her. “The other Exorcists are going a little stir crazy, now that they have nothing to do. But with you awake, they seem to be in high spirits, you know?”

Allen would've nodded, except Reever had a vice-like grip on his skull to keep him still. “I still….can't believe it's over.” He responded instead. He'd been saying it himself over and over again, that there was no more fighting to be done, and the idea still hadn't stuck yet. 

Reever stopped for a second and looked in Allen’s single eye, his expression eerily understanding. Then he leaned back, and patted the top of Allen’s white head. “Don't worry about it, it took us all a while, too. We've had five months to adjust.”

Allen forced himself to nod. 

That was one reaction to his awakening--unconditional support, and the trust he didn't deserve, but which his parched soul cried out for anyway.

The other reaction was...less good.

Allen flew directly from a troubled sleep to a adrenaline-fueled awareness, the way he could when the war was still in full swing. He...sensed something. Or someone? They were trying to keep their presence hidden, which was probably why Allen had reacted so badly to it in the first place.

His first thought was, of course, an Akuma, and he wasn't quite in the right state of mind to convince himself that the Earl's creations had all been wiped out when he had died. There was an enemy out there right now, wanting to kill him, and that was the one thing he could handle with absolute certainty. Whether or not it was an Akuma, well….he could figure that one out later. 

The green privacy curtains rustled a little, and Allen slowly began to prop himself up against his pillow, which was more….difficult than it had ever been in the past, due to only having one arm. He would manage, though. He would have to manage--there was no way he was facing this threat lying down. 

The curtains suddenly parted with a harsh ripping sound. And when the knife came flying for his face, Allen reacted by trying to pull his Innocence from his shoulder. 

But his Innocence wasn't there, why wasn't his weapon where he needed it--

He barely got his right arm up in time, and blood splashed onto his cheek as the knife bit into the skin of his hand. His assailant was stronger than he was, though, especially after five months in a coma, he wasn't going to _win_ this. His hand, the only thing keeping his attacker from stabbing him, lost ground inch by trembling inch, until he was watching the tip dancing dangerously in front of his only working eye.

And then suddenly there was a roar--

The pressure abruptly vanished, leaving him with a fierce pain where the knife was still embedded into his palm and nothing more. Allen looked up weakly, searching for his savior, and promptly caught sight of Kanda Yuu, holding an unfamiliar sword to his assailant’s throat. The ex-general was scowling fiercely at the other man, looking about two seconds away from foregoing pleasantries and cutting off his head.

“You know that's the Heart’s friend, right.” Kanda said slowly, as though he were speaking to someone very stupid.

“She's obviously been deceived!” The man growled, though he kept himself from getting too enthusiastic, lest he be cut by Kanda’s sword. “That thing is a monster, I’d be doing the world a favor if it dies--”

The sword suddenly dropped, and the man stared at it, obviously not comprehending that it was buried in his leg. “Fucking oops.” Kanda said acidly.

“You…” The man dropped like a rock, whimpering in pain, hands wrapped around his leg. “You bastard!” He screamed.

“Whatever.” Kanda snorted, and turned to look over at Allen. “Beansprout. You okay?”

Feeling a bit off-balanced about the sudden concern in Kanda’s voice, he lifted his hand, where the knife was still sticking out from his palm. “I only have one working arm left,” He said, a little shakily, “So I’d really appreciate if someone could get this removed.”

Cursing, Kanda called for Reever and the other scientists.

\---

A week and two assassination attempts later, Allen was finally called down to the science lab. He'd actually been expecting it much earlier, considering that A) he was an ex-Noah, and a lot of people probably wanted confirmation that it would stay that way, and B) he no longer had an eye, and needed to be fitted for a false one, or an eye patch like Lavi.

It turns out that while he was indeed needed for testing and eye-fitting, he was actually being called down for a much more immediate problem. The problem being that Lavi was still in the coma the Noah had put him in two years ago, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that whatever they had done to him wasn't going to fix itself. And as Allen was the one who’d been “with” the Noah for the longest, they were hoping that he'd be able to provide some sort of solution. 

Komui grimaced at Allen, who was being carried around in Marie’s arms, since he was not yet capable of walking long distances on his own. “I'm sorry about this, Allen. It's just that you're the only one who might be able to help him, and…” The scientist shrugged helplessly. “There's talk that he might be getting disconnected from life-support soon.”

Allen gritted his teeth and turned his face into Marie’s shoulder, not for the first time wishing that the Black Order could just be dismantled already. Even with Levierre gone, they were still kicking up a fuss and causing trouble for everyone. The most prominent of which being that they wanted to put Nea on trial for war crimes, completely ignoring the fact that Nea was technically dead, and they would just be trying the host. They were also calling for Lenalee to reactivate the Innocence for safety purposes, and for Lavi to be disconnected due to an unnecessary drain on resources, but Allen wasn't as concerned about that. Lenalee didn't take orders from anyone she didn't feel like anymore, and Lavi was an innocent as well as her close friend. Those two had far more immunity than he did at any one point in time.

“It's okay,” Allen responded quietly, allowing Marie to gently place his shaking feet on the floor. He tried to look at Komui as best he could, but it was made significantly less dignified by the fact he was hanging off of Marie like a limpet. “I want to help.”

He couldn't fight anymore. He was next to useless, what with him having no arm and no eye. Allen was staring at a future he never thought he'd have to face, and he was doing it crippled and already two steps behind everyone else. If there was some way of making himself useful, by God he would seize that chance like there was no tomorrow.

Komui nodded, like he'd been expecting that answer, and said, “Come with me. We like to keep him nearby, so we can keep an eye on him.”

Unspoken was the fact that if Lavi ever did wake up, he would not be alone.

Lavi was lying, pale and thin, in a bed next to the window, just to the right of Johnny’s desk. Someone had removed his headband and placed it on the table next to him with a vase of flowers, which looked to be fresh. There was no movement from the teen; the only thing that marked him from the dead was his slow, quiet breathing. He looked so peaceful, in fact, that it would have been difficult to differentiate him from the sleeping, if not for the tubes hooked up to him.

Allen swallowed hard, and wordlessly Marie maneuvered him so that he could get a better look at Lavi’s face. Without quite meaning to, Allen untangled his arm from around Marie’s shoulders and dropped to the bedside like Komui had done not so long ago for him. He brushed aside the vibrant red hair from Lavi’s forehead, feeling a lump creep into his throat.

This was all wrong. Lavi was--Lavi was lively, and forever moving, not this corpse-like figure lying prone on the bed. He wanted his friend back.

Allen let his hand settle onto Lavi’s forehead, resting just below his hairline. Then he reached for the long buried instinct that Nea had gifted him with, so long ago. 

Ah.

“Get me Lenalee.” Allen said, opening his eye again to the real world, shoving the Noah part of him back where it belonged(1). He didn't look up from Lavi.

“What?” Komui asked.

Allen shook his head, the lump in his throat now accompanied by a burning in his eye. He was--he was so tired, of everything. Of waking up in a sweat from nightmares he only half remembered, of jumping at shadows like they were going to attack him, of thinking that the war hadn't ended yet. He needed to adjust, dammit, not make everything ten times worse for himself, and this whole situation was not going to help. “Just--if you want Lavi to wake up, you'll get your sister and bring her here, right now.”

That if nothing else seemed to spur Komui on, and his clipped footsteps faded into the distance, leaving Marie and Allen alone with Lavi. Not for the first time Allen was thankful that Marie wasn't the chatty type, because right now, all he wanted was to be left alone in his thoughts. Talking to other people was more tedious now than it had ever been, simply because he was not always certain where their opinions fell about Nea. Marie was another unknown; all Allen really knew about him was that he was Kanda’s friend from ages ago. 

Luckily, Komui was quick, so he and Lenalee (who must have been somewhere nearby, waiting for results) returned within minutes. Lenalee had a very serious, determined look on her face, which Allen only used to see during fighting. _So I'm not the only one who’s head is still partially in the war._

“Allen,” Lenalee greeted, nodding at him curtly, all business. “What do you need?”

“I know how to fix this.” He said, wishing that he could comfortably reach down to take Lavi’s hand. Having only one arm meant that a lot of his previous habits were impossible, and it was frustrating. “But I'm going to need you to trust me.” He looked at her, searching for the faith she had in him that he didn't deserve, the faith that he wasn't still the Fourteenth. 

He looked, and found.

Lenalee’s determination didn't fade, not in the slightest. She fixed him with that same steady, fierce gaze, tempered by years of fighting and innocence lost, and said, “If you said you could fix him, Allen, I would hand you the Heart on a platter and turn away.”

Allen’s eye widened, and he had to look away in the face of such a bold, blatantly insane statement. Marie shifted next to him, clearly just as shocked by such a display of trust to an ex-Noah from their leader. Allen was reminded, then, of a young girl who put her friends and the world on a scale, and always found the world outweighed. Only now it was much more dangerous, because she was such an integral part of their organization, and if she was willing to die to save her friends then they would lose. They would lose because Lenalee would sacrifice the Heart so she didn't have to be alone.

Would've lost, Allen reminded himself. They had won, and this sort of attitude was much less dangerous than it would have been before five months ago. Lenalee could afford a little selfishness.

So he looked Lenalee dead in the eye, and said, “I need you to activate Crown Clown.” He paused, considering. “And then I need you to get the Bookman down here.”

Komui jumped in before Lenalee could say anything, his face lined with harsh creases. “That's asking for a lot, Allen.” He sent a meaningful look towards the ex-exorcist’s stump. Allen winced a little and rubbed at it absentmindedly, but had to concede that Komui’s concerns were legitimate. 

“This is the only way I can remove what the Noah put in him. The extraction process is...delicate, to say the least, but Crown Clown can handle this sort of thing.” Allen scowled a little, his eye lifting upwards as another thought occurred to him. “Oh, and do me a favor and get Kanda as well as Bookman, if you don't mind.”

Komui frowned lightly, but stopped pursuing the issue, for the moment anyway. Lenalee was currently ready to do any number of stupid things to get her close friend back, and arguing with her now would be fruitless as well as painful. So instead he said, “What do you need Bookman and Kanda for?”

The ex-exorcist turned away again to look at Lavi, and gently began smoothing his friend’s bangs back again. There was something very sad about him that Komui couldn't place, like a tragedy personified. If nothing else, Allen Walker had been born to suffer. “When the parasite was put inside him, he was in a situation where he was scared, and in pain.” The hand hitched over Lavi’s peaceful face. “I can remove the parasite, but if Lavi thinks that waking up will only mean suffering, then he'll sleep forever.”

Lenalee spun on her heel and darted back up the stairs as Komui’s eyes flickered with realization. She had obviously figured it out the second he had. “We need to convince him that he's safe.”

That would explain the need for Bookman and Kanda, at least--and if Lenalee helped, they just might be able to convince their comatose friend that he was no longer in danger. Komui tilted his head thoughtfully, suddenly remembering their other comatose exorcist. It would also explain why Chaoji wasn't waking up either, even though whatever had been done to him by the Noah had been destroyed. However Chaoji would be much more difficult to rouse--after all, Anita and his friends were dead. Maybe those finder friends of his were still alive….. Komui tapped his chin as he followed his sister, already making plans. He completely forgot, between one moment and the next, that he was supposed to come back.

Marie helped Allen roll Lavi onto his side, so that his left ear was facing up. The older man was being surprisingly calm about this whole thing, despite the fact that Lenalee would essentially be rearming Allen with a weapon he could potentially use to kill a lot of people with. They'd never been very close, though, as they'd usually been assigned to different missions. Allen half wanted ask him how he felt about all this Noah business, but the other half of him was terrified of uncovering some very quiet, very intense hatred.

“Do you think Lavi will come back?” Marie asked, startling Allen out of his thoughts. He glanced at the taller man, a little guiltily, despite the fact that he knew Marie couldn't read minds. 

“Lavi’s strong.” Allen said, leaning in to get a closer look at his friend’s ear. “I sincerely doubt that it's going to be very hard to wake him.” There'd always been a vitality about Lavi that couldn't be faked, no matter how many times Allen had attempted. There were certain roles that he'd had to abandon when conning people, because he just couldn't muster the same confidence that Lavi wore with ease. The Bookman Junior had loved life, and loved learning, and despite all the horrible things they'd gone through on a daily basis Lavi had always been eager for more.

He was probably waiting for them to hurry up.

“I wish Jerry was here.” Allen said suddenly, and twisted himself around so he could curl Lavi’s hand in his own, like he really wanted to. He felt a little bad for saying that, because Jerry was catching up with some of his siblings, but still.

“Why's that?” 

Allen grinned. “Lavi loves Jerry’s cake more than anything else in the world. There's no surer way to wake him up.”

He was distracted from that notion by the return of Lenalee and the others, so he missed the slightly startled, considering look Marie sent his way. 

“This better be good, beansprout,” Kanda said, but there was no venom to it. A year and a half as a general, and another five months of no war had mellowed him considerably. 

Before Allen could even say anything in response, Bookman butted in with a blunt, “Lenalee says you can wake my stupid apprentice.” The last two years had been anything but kind to him; he'd lost a considerable amount of weight, and he was hunched over like the world was resting on his thin shoulders. Losing Lavi had obviously been extremely difficult for him, and his impatience for his apprentice’s awakening was declared loudly in every movement he made. “I’ve been in the Order too long, trying to wake him up. If you can…”

Allen gave him a look, and then pointed at a surprised Lenalee. “Lenalee, Lavi’s close friend.” He pointed at Bookman, who was giving him an unreadable, half-hooded look, mind still whip-fast despite the fact that he'd look like he'd aged forty years. “Bookman, the closest thing that Lavi has to a father,” And he got an even fiercer look for that, but Allen just shook his head. There was no point in beating around the bush. He finally pointed at Kanda. “And Kanda, Lavi’s….” Allen squinted at the taller man.

Old Kanda made a dramatic reappearance in the curve of his frown and the storm above his eyes. “He's an idiot.”

“Fair enough.” Allen said easily, and mentally labeled Kanda as Lavi’s idiot. Bookman was giving him an especially sour look at the non-explanation, so Allen continued hastily. “After I finish removing the parasite I'll probably pass out, so I figured I'd explain now.”

“Pass out?” Lenalee asked, looking horrified. 

“It takes a lot more energy than I have at the moment,” Allen said dismissively, flicking his hair to one side, not for the first time wanting his arm back. Not just for the Innocence, either; eating, getting dressed, _scratching an itch_ \--they were all made a thousand times more complicated because he didn't have a second hand. “I'll collapse for a few days, but after that I should be fine. Anyway,” Lenalee was still giving him an alarmed look, but Bookman’s expression hadn't shifted, so Allen continued. This was what she wanted, and what did it matter if Allen was incapacitated for a bit? So many people wanted him dead anyway, they'd probably be happy about him being unconscious. “After I remove the parasite, he'll need to feel safe, so... focus on touch--hold his hand, pet his forehead, that sort of thing.”

Kanda looked so disgusted by that thought that Allen almost burst into laughter. 

“That was directed towards Lenalee, Bakanda.” He said, carefully not looking at Bookman. He did not think about how if the older man tried holding his apprentice’s hand, most likely they'd never get Lavi back. He'd probably think he was in some sort of elaborate illusion, or in hell. “I want you and the Bookman to talk to him--in your own way, tell him it's safe to come home.”

There was a moment of silence, as the members of the group digested their assigned positions. Allen half expected them to argue, or tell him that he was crazy for thinking they would trust him with something as precious as this. But Bookman had this look on his weary face, like he'd just seen the sun for the first time in years, and Lenalee was staring at Lavi’s hand, like she wanted to come over and take Allen’s place. Even Kanda looked genuinely thoughtful, which wasn't exactly a positive reaction, but was better than outright refusal.

Lenalee was the first to react; she walked over to Allen, and gently laid her hand on his shoulder. “Okay, then. Let's get started.” 

White light began to pour from her ankles, almost too bright to look at. It hovered there for second, shining slippers of power, looking for a second like the old Dark Boots. Then the light shot from the base of her feet to the top of her head, covering her in a thin layer of pure radiance. Allen glanced at the others nervously, wondering if this was supposed to happen, but they just watched her with grim calmness. He was pulled back to the spectacle when the light flew down her arm, and contacted his shoulder--

_Allen stood before his Innocence. It took no human form, but it didn't need to; he recognized its touch._

_He watched it, for a second too overcome to move, much less say anything. Here was the comrade he'd fought so hard with, the one he'd loved and respected in equal measure._

_The Innocence sent a feeling towards him._ ?

_Allen smiled._ Hey Crown Clown.

! _The Innocence was happy to see him. Allen was suddenly buffeted by images--them fighting together, killing Akuma, the sweet taste of victory in his tongue--and staggered back, but only because he hadn't been expecting it. It’d been so long since they'd communicated, he had forgotten how strong his companion’s presence was._

_In response, Allen sent back his own series of happy-fighting-together images. His Innocence didn't really understand words, but he'd learned easier ways to communicate. They had, after all, been together for the whole of Allen’s life._

_Then the Innocence sent another feeling._ ?

Curious, wanting to know why it was woken up. Akuma to fight? Noah?

_Allen grimaced a little at the intensity of feeling that he got when the Innocence projected about Akuma. It had always been a bit overenthusiastic about it’s favored enemy (and the reason the Noah were not it’s favored enemy was because those children of the Millennium Earl were apparently too close to human). The only times his Innocence had woken up and taken control during a fight was when it was against an Akuma. As much as he'd always appreciated the...assistance...there were times when he wished the Innocence had just let him pass out in peace. His original wounds were only exacerbated by his Innocence’s ‘help’._

_He thought for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to phrase his request. It would be tricky; as he'd once said, his left hand was for the Akuma, his right for the humans. Crown Clown had accepted this distinction easily, but now he was asking his left hand to be for the humans, too. This was only barely related to the Noah, and he wasn't sure if Crown was willing to reSynchronise to help a human…._

_Ah._

_Allen sent a series of images towards his Innocence--fighting for humans and Akuma, Lavi’s smile, fighting with Lavi, Lavi motionless on the floor of the cube--and waited._

Ally, _the Innocence responded, latching onto the images of Allen and Lavi fighting Akuma together. Then it sent a blur of images back, of Allen injured, of him being rescued by his friends._ Need help?

_Relieved, Allen sent back a feeling of confirmation. Then he sent a few images of the parasite, and the extraction process he'd witnessed once or twice. He made sure to connect the image of the Noah along with them, to emphasize that they would still technically be fighting the enemy._

Ally, _Crown Clown sighed back, slowly fading into the corners of his mind, where it always used to sleep. It felt like coming home._ (2)

Allen gasped aloud, sucking in as much air as he possibly could. Dimly he realized he must have stopped breathing when he'd been communicating with his Innocence, but he was heaving air too hard to focus on that thought much. It was also a little alarming, to be frank; he didn't usually nearly die while communicating with his Innocence, and this new development was an unwelcome one. 

Evidently, Lenalee and the others felt the same way, judging by how they were hovering around him (when had he fallen to the floor?) .

“What the fuck was that?!” Kanda demanded, a wild look in his eyes, sword waving around him as though he were looking for something to attack. It had probably been a little frightening for them, he mused, to see him lying on the floor, motionless and breathless. “Stupid Moyashi, what the fuck--”

“Kanda.” Lenalee interrupted firmly, though her face was pale and her eyes were wild. “Allen, how are you feeling?”

Allen groaned and let Lenalee help him upright, his pounding heart just barely beginning to slow as he heaved for air. Once he finally got his voice back, he rasped, "I'm fine." A blatant lie, but it wasn't like they could do anything about it. "What happened?"

"You were--talking to your innocence." Allen's eyebrows rose at the rising pitch of her voice and the way she was wringing her hands. "And it--it responded? They've never done that before??"

Bookman raised his head sharply at Lenalee’s words, staring at Allen with a new, sudden fascination. Marie made a choked noise like he was going to start suffocating too, and Kanda began snarling again, apparently uncaring of the words coming out of the Heart’s mouth. He was only thankful that Komui wasn't here, because apparently talking to one's Innocence was a Thing People Couldn't Do, and that surely would've set the crazy scientist off. (Speaking of, where had Komui gone?)

"...oh." Allen muttered, and promptly decided that he really did not want to have this discussion right now. Because....these people, his friends, were freaking out because apparently speaking to Innocence was another weird thing that he could do. He’d always been the freak, he’d always been different, and as time rolled by he was just finding more and more things that made him less than human. It scared him, the thought that he might wake up one day the monster he’d always feared he would be.

Allen grabbed the side of Lavi’s bed so he could haul himself up, and ended up half-sprawled across his comatose friend, ignoring Lenalee's startled _"Allen!"_. Allen really, really wanted to pass out for a few days, because if avoidance was a sport, then Allen was a professional athlete. And with this in mind, Allen gently placed his Innocence arm over his friend’s ear--

_Activate!_ Allen thought, and allowed his consciousness to travel down with his Innocence, following it as its thin tendrils slithered into Lavi’s brain. 

The outside world faded into darkness.

Lavi’s mind was nothing like Allen had suspected it would be.

Lavi himself was a bright, joyful, somewhat scatterbrained personality, so Allen had expected his mind to reflect that. He'd thought the Bookman Junior’s mind would be cluttered with information, books of memories strewn across the floor like leaves, thoughts dancing in the breeze of a free soul. From what he remembered from Nea, this was usually the case--that souls were the closest representation of one’s personality.

What he found instead was row upon row of neatly organized file cabinets, clearly labeled with handwriting that bore an odd resemblance to Lenalee’s obsessively clean penmanship. As far as the eye could see, there was block upon block of clinical metal all lined up against each other on a thick, green carpet. And even these blocks had some sort of pattern; floating above sections were words like, ‘memories’, ‘feelings’, ‘friends’, and others of a similar vein. Allen really shouldn't have been surprised, now that he thought about it, considering Lavi’s profession, but still. The fact that the personality and the mind were so obviously different was telling of Lavi’s strength of character. 

It would take a very stubborn person to not let the title ‘Bookman’ also mold his interactions with the world around him.

Allen looked around for a second to collect his bearings, squishing the carpet beneath his bare feet. He quickly spotted the physical manifestation of the parasite he was looking for--it would've been hard to miss it. The creature had taken the form of long, thin electrical cords, and was wrapped around the cabinets that had the word ‘consciousness’ floating above them.

There wasn't a lot of room for mistranslation. Allen flicked his Innocence arm, activating it, and began to approach the mass of tangled wires. He would need to be delicate; if he accidentally destroyed or knocked over a cabinet, there was no telling the kind of damage he could cause, especially to such a well-organized mind like this. However he was less worried about that, especially because the Noah who had planted the parasite were all dead, which meant that the creature was, for all intents and purposes, dead. 

Indeed, when Allen carefully began cutting away the cords one by one, the parasite didn't even respond. There was no attempt to defend itself, and that made Allen sad somehow, that this pitiful creature was helpless without its masters and the war it had been bred for. He could draw a lot of parallels to--

But no. There was no point in going down that road.

The minute Allen finished cutting away the last of the mass, the drawers of ‘Consciousness’ suddenly all burst open at once, slamming so hard that the cabinets themselves all nearly fell over. The movement was so violent and unexpected that the ex-exorcist fell over in shock, scrambling away frantically from the perceived attack. There was a moment of stillness as Allen stopped moving and simply stared at the manifestations of Lavi’s awareness, waiting for something to occur--

A feeling blew through Allen--

_Pain._

Allen gasped, clutching at his chest and squeezing his eyes shut, trying to fend off the violent invasion into his head. 

_Pain, and fear. We're so scared, we're so scared. Is it safe?_

Was--was Lavi’s mind trying to communicate with him? If so--if so, he had bare seconds to convince his friend that he was safe, before his friend gave up and slunk back to where it'd been hiding. Because he'd underestimated the intensity of the emotions that Lavi felt, he'd underestimated the sheer mortal terror and the need to no longer be in pain. He was going to pay for that if he didn't reassure Lavi quickly--

But Allen was a traveler, wasn't he? What did he know of safety, of coming home and falling into comfort the second he crossed the threshold? All Allen had ever known was long, hard treks across continents and welcoming sleep with open arms, and coveting food like it was made of the richest gold. 

But then again, hadn't Lavi also been a traveler as well? He was Bookman’s apprentice, and that meant going wherever the fickle whims of history took them. Lavi wasn't even his real name, now that Allen thought about it.

Which still left him at square one--how did one convince a traveler that he was safe?

Allen thought about his life, his experiences, everything that had ever happened to him. He thought about cold winters in Russia, and soft Spring in Switzerland, and the brazen heat of the Sahara desert in the summer. He thought of traditional dancing with the Germans, and wearing exotic clothing in India, and gorging himself on rich, delicious meals in Italy. He thought of languages learned, and languages forgotten, and friends he’d written to as often as he could before he changed permanently to a Noah….

And then it came to him.

Allen gathered up the memory he had chosen and gently, ever so gently, pressed it against Lavi’s mind. It was up to his friend to accept it, because forcing it now would just scare him away. Allen waited with baited breath, hopeful, and then--

_Allen stood in the center of a field of wildflowers, the breeze a breath of warm, gentle air. He was thirteen, and Cross was in town doing business, and so Allen had made himself scarce. He was so glad he had; Greece was a beautiful place, and he was content to stand there, hip-deep in a sea of vibrant purples and yellows._

_Allen looked up, and the sky was an endless, vibrant shade of blue. He smiled up at it, and the thought that_

No matter where I am, the sky always looks the same.

_And as strange as that seemed, he was comforted._

The memory took. 

Lavi’s mind shuddered with something that Allen thought might be relief, and then he was abruptly ejected from his friend’s mind. Blackness followed behind him like a blanket, and Allen accepted the darkness with open arms. He was so, so tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But what am I doing with my life
> 
> 1) I kept forgetting that Allen only had one arm and eye. I went back a few times to make sure it made sense, but someone please let me know if you see any more mistakes.  
> 2) I actually got the inspiration for this type of communication between Allen and his Innocence from another fic on Archive, Synchronization. I highly recommend it.
> 
> Lol I'm sorry this chapter is like twenty times longer than the other one, but I couldn't find a good place to stop.


	3. Chapter 3

There was an iron-tight grip on Allen's right hand, so strong that it was almost uncomfortable. That was the very first thing that Allen was aware of as he rose from unconsciousness. He flexed his fingers a little, trying to get the grip to loosen so he could get feeling back into his numb extremities.

"Allen?" A feminine voice asked, and the grip tightened to just over the threshold of unbearable, before unclenching into a gentle, weightless caress.

Allen sighed, and opened his eye to stare at the clean, obsessive white of the hospital ceiling. They were becoming very well acquainted, he thought grumpily. He wished that they would stop meeting in this way-he didn't actually enjoy falling into comas. Even if that last one had been a rather convenient escape.

He turned to look at Lenalee, who was staring at him with a look of weary fondness. "Hey." He croaked out, and let out a soft groan, tugging at the hand that Lenalee was still holding. She let it go easily, and he drew his arm across his eye, scrubbing away the sand collected there. "How long was I…"

"Three days." Lenalee responded quietly, and then there was a clinking noise. When Allen looked up again, she was holding a glass cup of water. "Come on, sit up. You need to drink something."

Allen agreed with that statement, wincing at the rawness of his throat, and gingerly pushed himself, one-handed, so he was sitting with his back to the pillow. That's when he noticed, however, that his Innocence was still attached to his shoulder. He'd honestly expected it to be gone by the time he woke up, and he wasn't necessarily sure whether or not it still being there was a good thing. It was hard enough dealing with the loss of his Innocence when he hadn't watched it get taken away; he wasn't certain how he would react when conscious.

"My Innocence is still…" Allen trailed off, looking at Lenalee questioningly.

"Yeah. We...didn't want to destroy it while you were still sleeping." Lenalee grimaced a little. "Allen, I wanted to apologize. We all reacted really poorly when we figured out you could talk to your Innocence, and we shouldn't have." She looked away, bitter and aged beyond her years. "It doesn't even matter anymore. The war is over."

Allen reached out and patted her wrist, smiling at her reassuringly. "Don't worry about it. I'm sorry for freaking out-I hadn't even realized it was a big deal before you told me."

They grinned at each other in easy companionship, and for the first time something warm and comfortable that had been missing from all their interactions until now clicked into place. Allen had missed her dearly, unable to separate the sensitive, emotional exorcist in his head from this hardened war hero in front of him. It was nice to realize that she was still there, albeit buried beneath layers of armor. It would take a while to get used to, but friendship seldom quick or easy.

"Do you mind if I remove your Innocence now?" Lenalee asked quietly, breaking into the calm with an apologetic look. "The Order gets more and more nervous the longer you keep it."

Allen grimaced a little but nodded, knowing better than to argue-after all, she'd never said it outright, but Lenalee was determined to try and give all the ex-exorcists more of a life than being a puppet for the Black Order. Which meant no more Innocence. This was okay for some of them, Kanda and Miranda to name a few, but Krory (who was still getting used to his dentures) and Allen (who, well. Was missing an _arm_ ) were certainly worse off.

"Can I at least say goodbye?" He asked.

Lenalee looked like she wanted to ask questions about that, no doubt still curious about Crown Clown and his' communication. But she quickly schooled her expression and nodded solemnly, so Allen had to give her points for that.

He closed his eye, nudging his Innocence from its slumber. He hadn't been able to say a proper goodbye last time, and wanted to remedy that now. Despite the fact that the Innocence wasn't exactly human, it still had been the closest thing he'd had to a friend for the first six years of his life. There'd been a time when his Innocence was the only thing he ever talked to, which...might actually explain his state of mind regarding the Akuma.

The Innocence let out a sleepy rumble. _?_

Allen sent it a wordless picture of his empty stump, even as he could hear Lenalee moving around to his other side. Then he gently passed along more feelings- _happy to be together, but a bittersweet farewell._ And...he found that, surprisingly enough, these feelings were more honest than he would have liked. He was used to losing people...or rather, as an exorcist, he had come to terms with the possibility of losing his loved ones at any moment.

But losing his Innocence was different. For the first six or seven years of his life, Allen had been a young circus brat who was seen as cursed by God-and because he'd been young and impressionable, he had believed it. He had believed that something was wrong with him, and so even when people had tried to reach out to him, he had pushed them away, with sharp, biting words that hurt him as much as the other person. The one constant had been the calming presence at the back of his mind, the one that had kept him from doing things he would've seriously regretted later in life. Even if he hadn't known the name of that guiding presence at the time, his Innocence had still been there, when no one else was.

And then Allen and the Innocence had come to fight together, to be companions in battle as well as real life. They had understood each other, as only two people with intentions perfectly aligned could. And now...now it was time to say goodbye.

The Innocence didn't respond for a second, and in that moment Allen thought it wouldn't say anything at all, which he'd half expected. His Innocence had always been a thing of few words. But then suddenly a series of very powerful images bombarded his mind, and he gasped, bending over his knees.

_Allen gasped in pain as Tyki's hand retreated from his chest-_

_"The Innocence filled the hole in your heart-"_

"Allen!" Lenalee shouted, startling him out of the images, her touch firm but ever-so-slightly shaky on his shoulders. Judging from the panic in her voice, she'd been trying to get his attention for a while. "Allen, what's going on?"

Allen reached out blindly, and Lenalee hurried to grasp his hand in her two smaller, colder ones. It took him a moment to sort through everything, but once he did, he finally looked up at his distressed friend. "It's-it's okay." He was half trying to convince himself, though. "It-my Innocence just got worried. Listen, you can remove the Innocence arm, but is there any way you can keep from pulling it out of my heart?"

For a second Lenalee just stared blankly at him, evidently not connecting that statement with the relevant memories. But when she did-and she did very quickly-her eyes flew open so wide that Allen could see the tiny veins and capillaries in her whites. "Oh, I-I forgot. I'm-" She let out a shaky laugh, releasing his hand so she could push her own through her hair. "I'm really, really glad I waited for you to wake up. That could-that could've been really bad."

Allen would've laughed himself, if only to reassure Lenalee that he had forgiven her even though she had almost killed him, but he was too busy trying to think around the headache his Innocence had caused. He grimaced and ground his fingertips into his temples, despite the fact that his Innocence arm had the grip of God, and he could very possibly accidentally brain himself if he wasn't careful.

"Yeah." He responded finally, and heaved out a sigh. "Let's just...get this over with. I need some sleep." And he needed a stiff glass of whiskey, but as he was still underage, just the sleep would have to do. He had no idea what all the other exorcists were going on about when they said that Parasite types were 'special'-the only special thing about being a Parasite type, as far as he could tell, was that it meant more headaches. Literally.

Lenalee nodded, but she still had to take another steadying breath or two before finally reaching out to grasp Allen's arm. Obviously nearly killing Allen was affecting her more than it was affecting him, possibly because he was used to near-death situations.

He did not expect losing his Innocence to hurt so much, but he supposed that he should have, considering his track record. But when Lenalee started the separation-and he could feel it, the minute she did-he accidentally grabbed onto her wrist with his free arm, squeezing so hard he could hear her bones creaking like rustling branches in the wind.

She paused, wincing. "Allen?"

"It's-" He panted heavily, and slowly tried peeling his fingers from her arm, which was more difficult than he had anticipated. "I'm-I'm sorry, it's just…" He finally managed to release her, and then let his hand creep up so it was resting on his Innocence. "Do you think you could-get something I can put between my teeth?" He did not say that he also wanted someone's hand to hold onto, because he was not a child, but he thought that request very strongly. The feeling of one's arm being slowly disintegrated into nothing, that was...hard to put into words.

Lenalee thought about that for a second, then nodded decisively. "I'll get Kanda."

Five minutes later, Lenalee reappeared with the scowling Kanda following in her wake. How she had managed to convince him to come along, Allen didn't know, because the ex-general had obviously not come along willingly, judging from that thunderstorm resting on his forehead. However he was holding a belt in one hand, which made Allen shiver a little, already knowing what it was for.

"Beansprout, if you bite through my belt," Kanda began threateningly, "I'll kill you."

"Kanda…" Lenalee sighed in a long-suffering way as she settled down next to Allen.

Surprisingly enough, Kanda settled down on Allen's other side as he handed the younger teen the belt. "And if you break my fingers, I'll kill you a second time."

Allen shot Lenalee an alarmed look, wondering what on earth she had promised-or threatened-Kanda with to get him to hold his hand. And he really wasn't certain he liked the idea of showing Kanda any weakness at all, considering he wasn't entirely sure where the ex-general stood on this whole Noah business. "Uh...that's not really necessary-"

"Don't be stupid, Allen." Lenalee cut in primly, flicking her short bangs to one side. "Sorry, but I don't want you crushing my wrist. I kind of need that wrist."

Allen stared at her, and she stared defiantly back, her head tilted up with the kind of determination he used to see only when her friends needed saving. It seems that determination had spread to every part of her life, and she now wielded it with terrifying efficiency.

He'd been searching for his friend for ages, trying to find where the old Lenalee ended and the new Lenalee began. It seems that he'd been looking too hard in all the wrong places.

"Okay." Allen said, letting his wary tension drain away into a fond smile. He leaned back onto his pillow, and jammed the belt between his teeth, before reaching for Kanda's hand. There was a second of hesitation as Kanda just stared at him, though, looking...surprised about something? "What?" He got out, though it was garbled around the belt.

"Nothing." Kanda muttered, shaking his head, and grabbed Allen's hand. "Are we going to do this or not?"

Allen felt himself pale a little, and glanced over at Lenalee, who smiled encouragingly, already reaching for his Innocence. He took a deep breath, and then turned his head over his shoulder, resting one side of his face against the pillow. Kanda gently squeezed his hand, and Allen responded by tightening his grip, but not so much that it was uncomfortable.

That would come later.

Lenalee began the process again, and he once more felt his arm disintegrating, piece by piece from the base of his fingertips.

And then there was nothing but pain.

\------

Allen did, in fact, end up breaking some of Kanda's fingers. However, the fact that Kanda was being so decent about the whole thing made it about twenty times worse. If Kanda had punched him in the face, then maybe he wouldn't feel quite so guilty, but the ex-general just waved away his apologies. In fact, he seemed more irritated about the treatment the science department was forcing on him than he was about about Allen having caused the damage in the first place. Which made absolutely no sense, considering this was Kanda Yuu, who had hated him even before he had become a Noah.

"I'm pretty sure he still feels guilty about stabbing you." Komui said knowingly as he rewrapped the bandage around the stump. Apparently his Innocence arm's absence was more of a problem than he'd originally assumed-it had taken a chunk out of his shoulder, and some more important stuff besides. The fact that it was his left side, and so close to his heart therein, made everything about fifty times worse.

"But that was years ago." Allen said, squinting at Komui from over his shoulder, trying to figure out whether or not the man was joking. Certainly he must be, because there was no way Kanda still felt guilty about stabbing him. That was almost a decent thing to do, and everybody knew that Kanda didn't do decent. "Did you threaten him or something?"

Komui patted the bandage, making sure it was secure, all the while giving Allen a mock-chiding look. "Now Allen. Just because Kanda is being nice doesn't mean we threatened him. What kind of people do you take us for?"

The right answer to that question, in Komui's mind anyway, completely coincidentally paired up with the lie to keep Komui happy. Allen however decided to take the high road, and did not lie or answer at all; instead he fixed the scientist with a deadpan stare that spoke volumes.

"Listen, Allen, I genuinely have no idea what's up with Kanda." Komui said, scratching his black hair and turning away. "But it seems to me that he's changed a lot from the person you knew him to be. Maybe he's just matured, or something."

That was a very, very strange thought; for some reason, Allen had never imagined Kanda getting any wiser. He'd honestly expected Kanda to be excessively grumpy till the end of his days, shaking his cane at kids who did nothing wrong. This...for lack of a better word, mellowing, seemed so strange and out of character to Allen that it made his head spin.

So instead, Allen asked, "When can I go see Lavi?"

From what he'd heard, Lavi had woken up essentially the day after Allen had destroyed the parasite keeping him unconscious. He didn't know much else, though, like if Lavi was still sane after all this time, or if he remembered anything at all from his two years in a coma. Allen honestly would've preferred the latter, and not just because he wanted his friend sane; he was looking forward to not being the only confused person anymore. He wanted someone to talk to, to try and sort all of these changes out without being treated like an idiot. Whenever he tried to ask the others, they just shrugged, or told him that it didn't matter, when it really did. He needed to know.

He'd missed….he'd missed whole years of their life. How could that be unimportant?

Komui sent him a side-eyed look, eyes almost...sheepish? "Whenever you're feeling up to it. Though I have to warn you, we haven't talked about you to Lavi yet, so he may be a little surprised to see you."

Ah, that did explain it.

"I understand." Allen said, and he did. Because when he'd first woken up, there had been so much stuff to tell him that the information had been spread over a span of three days. It was only on the third day that he had been informed of Cross's status as Not Dead, which had been...not very good. Allen had been furious that they'd saved that tidbit till the third day, but when he got over his anger, he had admitted that it had been a decent plan. He'd been so relieved about his Master's survival that he'd been too distracted to focus on anything else. "Can I see him now?"

He was going a bit stir-crazy, to be perfectly honest. There was only so long one could spend cooped up in a hospital room before they started losing their minds, and Allen had never been very stable to begin with.

Komui looked as though he wanted to argue, probably because Allen had missed a lot of Physical Therapy sessions after reviving Lavi, and his muscles were still pretty weak. But then he must have remembered that a stir-crazy Allen meant a bored Allen, and a bored Allen never did anyone any good. So instead he sighed and said, "Let me get your wheelchair."

At least the wheelchair allowed him some dignity-being carried around was just embarrassing. The Science Department were geniuses-they had managed to create a wheelchair that could be controlled by an electric panel near his only arm, which as far as Allen knew was well beyond that capabilities of an iron carriage.

When Allen finally wheeled himself into Lavi's room, he was met with a sight that was...less than reassuring.

His friend was...staring out the window, at the rain pattering against the panes, more still than Allen had ever seen him before. There was a feeling about him, and in the room, that felt somewhat dreamlike, not quite tangible enough to be reality. Grey shadows splashed across Lavi's sharp cheekbones, his thinness standing out all the more because of the pajamas he was practically drowning in.

Allen, stricken, stared at his friend, and wondered how long he'd been sitting there, just...watching the rain. It'd obviously been a while; there was no other way to achieve such an intense feeling of desolation, such a sacred silence that nothing dared touch. He wondered if this was another stranger he'd have to relearn, another friend whom he no longer recognized.

He wondered why he'd hoped it would be any different.

"Hey, Lavi." Allen said, a little weakly, and wheeled himself over the threshold.

Lavi came alive in such a startling and sudden way that Allen nearly fell out of his wheelchair. He whipped around, single eye enormous, face a study of disbelief and something that almost looked close to wary hope. "A-Allen!?" Then his eye caught sight of the wheelchair, and his entire face dropped like a stone.

Allen almost couldn't keep up with the dizzying emotions, until he realized that Lavi was now staring at his wheelchair as though it had kicked his puppy. He knew how the wheelchair made him look-like there was something more wrong than his muscles simply atrophying-and he also knew how that might worry some people. That, he could understand.

"I'm okay!" He said quickly, kicking aside the footrests and pushing himself to his feet, pleased with his mostly steady balance. "Just-my muscles can't really support me anymore, and being carried is really embarrassing."

"Oh thank God." Lavi's relief was so raw that Allen almost had to look away. "You won't believe the day I'm having-Kanda was actually not an ass to me, and-"

"Lenalee has turned into basically a different person-"

"Cross is alive-"

"The war is over, I can't believe it, it's so-"

"Weird! Right? And-"

They stopped, and stared at each other.

"The Fourteenth won." Allen said quietly, and managed to keep too much of his bitterness from bleeding into his voice. "He killed the Earl, and then dropped my body at the Order. That was after a year and a half, though. There's so much I missed…"

"The Noah put a parasite in my head that kept me from waking up." Lavi responded in the same tone, the one that so obviously carried a heavy weight and was pretending that it wasn't. "I spent two years in a coma, and by the time I woke up, the war had ended."

They stared at each other for a second longer.

Finally, Lavi let out a soft laugh that sounded a million miles away from humor. "We're quite the pair, aren't we."

Allen let himself drop back into his wheelchair, and carefully began making his way over to Lavi's bed. He snorted, and rolled until his knobby knees bumped into the side of his friend's mattress, wincing on contact. "You can say that again. We even have matching eyes, now." Lavi snorted darkly at that, thin shoulders shaking with mirth.

He eyed his friend's slim frame, feeling worry building like bile in his stomach. "How long is your physical therapy expected to take?" His was projected to last just over six months, and he could barely walk without assistance right now. Lavi hadn't moved for two years…

Lavi grimaced, and reached out with one shaking arm to rub at his leg, his wrist almost skeletal it was so thin. Once again a touch of desolation graced Lavi's face, twisting his mouth until it was a wry, bitter smile. "I'm...expected to to be able to use a wheelchair after a month. And I'll stay there, for a year or so. Depending on how well my physical therapy goes."

That would explain it. Allen shut his eyes, and for the first time was thankful that the Noah had taken him over, rather than let him rot for all that time. He knew himself, and if he had to spend too long trapped in a chair with one arm and one eye, he would kill himself. There was only so much he could handle.

Lavi would...survive, he thought. His friend wouldn't be very happy, but as long as he was kept supplied with ample books and was allowed to travel, he would be...okay. Eventually. Allen would make sure of that; he would stay with his friend for as long as he needed him, and they would get better, together. They would look fucking ridiculous traveling together, the wheelchair pair, but they could make a joke of it.

"Are you okay?" Allen asked, opening his eye again, just to confirm what he'd already been thinking.

Lavi hesitated for a moment-and that hesitation was so telling, so much more telling than any words-and said, "I'll be okay. But you know, the Bookman-he left this morning. He said he had stuff to do in Europe." He said 'stuff' like it was poisonous, looking so much more bitter than before, and Allen knew what he was thinking, because he'd thought it himself.

 _Useless,_ his mind supplied, words burrowing into the weakest parts of himself and going deep, stabbing. _He left you behind, just like everyone else is going to. You're trapped in this damn wheelchair, wasting away like a fading memory, and one day they're just not going to care anymore._

"No!" Allen shouted, and Lavi jumped and turned, startled about the sudden, vehement interjection. "No, don't you-you-" Allen cursed Bookman in his head, as this was definitely not the best time for a European sabbatical. Lavi needed him, dammit. "You're not useless, Lavi, the Bookman has never thought that. You should've seen how he was before you woke up-he looked like he'd aged a hundred years, and-" Allen let out a frustrated noise, and punched his wheelchair, unable to articulate himself properly.

Lavi didn't even question the fact that Allen had apparently mind-read the reason for his sudden depression straight out of his head. Instead he gritted his teeth and looked away, as though trying to carve any weakness from his facial expression, before saying, "He obviously doesn't need me anymore if he's gone without me. I knew you were idealistic, Allen, but he-"

Allen reached for a reason as to why the Bookman might have left, especially just after his beloved apprentice had just woken up. If it was Cross, he could just make the excuse that his master had gotten bored of all the drama and decided to go celebrate the war by fucking anything with two legs. However that wouldn't work with Lavi, considering A) Cross already thought Allen was a useless apprentice, and therefore that excuse was absolutely believable, and B) the Bookman didn't actually enjoy the same delicacies as Cross, and actually cared for his apprentice.

But what reason did the Bookman have to leave? He didn't...actually think that his apprentice would drag him down, did he?

No, that was stupid. Even if the Bookman found Lavi useless at this point, which was probably true, considering the months of physical therapy, he still cared about his apprentice. Bookman would know that at this moment, Lavi needed his support more than he needed anything else, including 'space', or whatever the man had in mind. There was something Allen was missing about this, though what it was-

Allen put himself back a few days, when he'd first been deposited into the room by Marie. He remembered the Bookman's haggard expression, his gaunt face and his….

Ah. It was probably because-

"I know that….the Bookman had been neglecting a lot of things, because he was staying in the Order." He murmured, thinking it through even as he was speaking-because he remembered the words the Bookman had said, _I've been here too long._ Perhaps he had not been speaking of being in one place too long, but of avoiding his duties for too long. "Two years he spent looking for a cure for you. Maybe...maybe he couldn't help it."

And that-that seemed to mean something to Lavi, judging from the way his eye got big, and it looked as though he were going to fall off the bed in shock. Which was…actually a little worrying, considering Lavi's body was too weak to handle much more than being propped up in bed. "He's been at the Order for two years?" He hissed.

"Um…" Even if Allen had sort of been going for a reaction, he was startled by the vehemence of it. "That's what Komui said…."

Lavi slumped back against the bed, his posture abruptly losing all of its tension. "He….he waited for me?"

Allen smiled reassuringly, despite the fact that he didn't really understand why this was such a big thing. But it seemed to help Lavi. "Yeah. He wouldn't leave you for no reason."

Lavi was very quiet for all of two seconds, before he sudden lashed out his fist against one of his legs. "Stupid, useless legs-" He growled, even as Allen began to hobble to his feet, alarmed. "I have to follow him, dammit-"

"Lavi, stop." Allen commanded in a shaking voice, and when he caught his friend's wrist he nearly fell over at the force of it. Luckily Lavi's muscle atrophy kicked in a second later, because he dropped his arms, breathing heavily. "He doesn't think you're useless, don't you see-"

"This is almost worse!" Lavi shouted, pushing Allen away. He fell to the floor, and gritted his teeth as something cracked. He was still pretty weak, and it was way easier to break bones now-he hoped he would just have bruises. "He-he wasted two years in this place when he could've been doing his job like he was supposed to! I wasted two years of fucking history and I can't even follow him!"

"Lavi." Allen whispered, his heart aching almost as much as his side. He...he'd only wanted to comfort his friend, not make it worse. "I'm…"

"Just...go." Lavi said tiredly, turning back to the window with an air of finality. "I don't need your pity."

Allen almost argued with him, except that Lavi had already drawn up all his walls, that desolate feeling in the air again like a shroud. He didn't know what else to do, except use the wheelchair to help lever himself to his feet. Then, with one backwards glance at his friend, Allen rolled from the room, intending to go back to his own and brood for a while.

That was his intention, anyway.

"Allen!" A voice called from the other end of the hall, drawing Allen from his worries. It was Komui, beret eschew and lab coat rumpled.

"Komui." Allen greeted tiredly. "What can I-"

Before Allen could finish, the older scientist had come close enough that he was able to grab the wheelchair. He did so and immediately jerked Allen in the opposite direction from where he'd originally been going. "No time to talk." He said, and started running.

"Komui!" Allen shouted, grabbing onto the arm and trying desperately not to fall off. "Komui, what the hell-"

Komui took a turn too fast, and Allen's hand ripped away from the armrests. He clutched his bruised fingertips to his chest, mind whirring, trying to figure out what had possessed the scientist to run him around the halls like a maniac-

Allen reached out with one foot, and kicked the brake on one of the wheels.

The wheelchair spun on the dead weight, throwing its passenger and the one pushing it into a wall. The momentum was too great to react to, so Komui hit the drywall with a painful sounding oomph, and Allen slammed into the side of his chair. He was definitely going to be a patchwork of bruises and pain tomorrow, but he couldn't care less, because-

"Komui, what the hell is your problem?!" Allen shouted, detaching his chair from the scene of the crash and wobbling it closer to the other man (oops-the break was still on, he'd forgotten). Said scientist was still rising to his feet, fixing his beret with one hand.

"It's Central, Allen." Komui said, and finally looked at him.

Allen recoiled, because he knew that expression; he'd seen Komui wear it before. It was that look when the scientist had been backed into a corner, when the only way out was a bullet to the head or one of the broken child soldiers around him.

Then, the words caught up.

"What do you mean, 'It's Central'?" Allen asked, voice just barely ghosting above a whisper.

"I don't know how, we've been so careful-" Komui grimaced and shook his head. "I suppose it doesn't matter. They figured out a way to question you, possibly get you killed for being a Noah. I want to get you out of here before they figure out that Lenalee is a distraction."

Allen stared at Komui, mind blank.

They were still coming after him? After...everything? He still wasn't free?

Allen thought about it. He thought about Lavi, punching his skinny knees because they would no longer take him where he wanted to go. He thought about Marie, who was all but useless at the moment because the Innocence had given him back his purpose. He thought about Kanda, the only ex-general who had stayed in the Order's headquarters after the war ended, and was refusing to leave before the mess they'd made was cleaned up. He thought about Lenalee, who was refusing to give them back their Innocence in an attempt to give them a future instead. He thought of her brave, determined face, pushing through day after day, just wanting the next one to be better.

He thought about the Noah, and their hosts, who had all died after Nea's desecration. He thought about the little black-haired girl he'd seen, Rhode's host, the one time he'd been given access to her memories (through Nea's will, of course).

"No." Allen said quietly, and only realized he'd interrupted Komui when the man stopped chattering, eyebrows high.

"What?"

"Let them come." Allen folded his hands in his lap, and felt his expression go serene. Just to drive the point home, he kicked down the other brake on the wheelchair. "I'm done with running."

"Allen…" Komui said slowly, as though he were talking to a small child. "They will kill you. It doesn't matter if you're not a Noah, they will still-"

"Then, by God, let them."

Allen heard that ring like a struck bell. He felt as though he were hollow, and the only thing holding him up was that sentiment, that simple phrase. Let them.

_By God, let them come._

"I'm done hiding." Allen told Komui quietly, watching that stunned expression with a deadened eye. "I refuse to live the rest of my life like a fugitive. If they kill me, so be it." Then he sucked in a heavy, shaky lungful of air. "And if they try to imprison me, then I'll kill myself. The only outcome I'll accept is complete absolution."

Komui didn't have anything to say to that. In fact, when Crow finally marched around the corner and informed Allen that they were taking him into custody, Komui was still standing there, not making a sound.

Whatever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who said they wanted more Lavi?!?! :D


	4. Chapter 4

The questioning, as it were, dragged on for days. And Allen really wouldn't call it questioning, simply because he was not actually allowed to speak. It was essentially Komui and Lenalee defending him to the top brass of the Black Order, trying to convince them that Allen was not actually a Noah anymore. That was all well and good, except that Allen himself couldn't say whether or not Nea was gone (and wasn't that the worst sort of nightmare).

So Komui would drop some story about Allen's bleeding heart, or talk about how Nea and the Earl were connected and therefore if one was dead, so must the other be. The Brass would respond in turn, saying that Allen simply did not matter as a person if the Fourteenth was still a residence, or how did they know that the Earl hadn't just reborn himself and Nea was sleeping, waiting for the right chance?

And then the Brass usually degenerated into a rant about how Allen was a traitor to the church and as such should be killed at best, imprisoned for life at worse, blah blah blah. Allen was getting sick with of people he didn't know telling him he needed to die.

Allen listened to them squabble for hours, feeling exhaustion creeping up into his bones like a disease. Lenalee sometimes sat next to him, her head sometimes drowsy on his shoulder, sometimes boredly picking at her fingernails. Occasionally she would go up and defend his case as well, though it was mostly just her threatening to destroy anyone who tried to hurt Allen.

Her pity was almost unbearable.

After the second day, Komui managed to convince the Brass that Allen should not be locked up overnight again. Komui had used the evidence that even if the boy tried to escape, he wouldn't get very far because of his atrophied muscles.

Allen hated his pity too, but was thankful enough about getting him out of his cell that he kept his thoughts to himself.

Even so, he was to be accompanied by a member of Crow at all times (was there something familiar about this situation? He could quite recall…). With this thought in mind, he decided he should pay Lavi another visit, see if he had calmed down after a few days.

Lavi had not calmed down. In fact, when Allen arrived at his room, it was to the alarming sight of Lavi jamming all of his personal belongings into a bag, pausing every minute or so to regain his breath, but doggedly continuing all the same. Allen watched the frenzied motions for a minute or so, bewilderment fading slowly into annoyance.

"What are you doing?" Allen asked quietly, pushing himself into the room. The Crow followed him like a great, silent, disapproving shadow.

Lavi looked up at the intrusion, but quickly dismissed Allen once he realized who it was. He didn't even look twice at the Crow. "I'm going after the Bookman."

"Lavi," Allen said tiredly, feeling all of his irritation drain away. "You're not strong enough, you can barely use a wheelchair."

"I don't care." Lavi said, not quite angry, but not altogether steady, either. "I'm his apprentice, he needs me. I've made him wait long enough."

Allen grimaced at the thought of having this conversation under the Crow member's unforgiving eyes. He turned and said, as softly as he could, "Can you wait outside, please?"

The Crow frowned at him, looking as though he would rather do anything but. But then he looked over at Lavi, who was glaring at the shirt in his hands, and something in his eyes softened slightly. He gave a sharp nod, turned on one heel, and shut the door behind him.

The silence left behind was heavier than solid iron.

"Bookman is not going to stop caring about you just because you can't follow him." Allen told Lavi gently, sympathy curling at his stomach. "He spent two years searching for a cure for you because he wanted to, not because he wanted you to repay him somehow." After a moment's consideration, he added, "That's not how caring about people works."

Lavi tensed a little. "If I remember correctly," he said, with devastating coolness, "You're not exactly the authority on caring about people." Then, as if to drive the point home, "Considering who your 'father' was."(3)

Allen felt all breath leave his body.

He'd known, logically, that Lavi knew about his relationship with Mana. He'd known that because the Bookman had been told the story of his cursed eye, Lavi also must have been informed. Allen had been peripherally aware of the chink in his armor exposed to the Bookman and his apprentice, but he hadn't worried about it. After all, the Bookman was above the history he was recording, and supposedly cared little about the actual events, certainly not enough to use them in a hurtful way against Allen for personal reasons.

He'd….he'd never, ever even considered the possibility that Lavi might use it against him. Because Lavi was something like a friend, and that wasn't what friends did to each other.

Allen grabbed the breathless hurt that callously thrown statement had called, and twisted it into a little ball. And then, he turned it into anger, and threw it at all the emotions he'd been storing up inside-disgust at the pity, anger at the undeserved mistrust from the Black Order, and fear that their suspicions were not just suspicion-and let it erupt.

It was a little bit like throwing a match into a room full of hydrogen.

"One thing I do know," Allen hissed, black rage in his voice, so strong that Lavi physically recoiled, but he didn't care, Lavi had thrown the first fucking stone, "Is that love doesn't have a _fucking time limit_."

Lavi flinched as though he'd been slapped. "Allen." He whispered.

Allen let out a disgusted snarl, and scooted his wheelchair around. It didn't really create the exit he wanted, though, so in the doorway he kicked up his wheelchair brakes, replaced the foot rests, and rose from the seat. He left the chair in the doorway (ignoring his startled shadow), and strode away, anger still boiling beneath the surface. He might've heard his name, but he was too furious to respond.

How dare he? How _dare_ Lavi use his past against him, when he knew that would hurt more than anything else?

Allen stopped in the middle of the hallway, bringing up his hand to his mouth to muffle a sob. He'd-he'd thought-

Lenalee and Komui, with nothing but pity in their eyes. The Black Order brass, calling him a traitor and screaming for his death. Lavi, words like acid. Not a friend.

What was the point anymore?

He was just a freak, born and raised for the war. There was nothing that was his, nothing that he cared about besides his friends-and they weren't his friends anymore, not really. He was mostly crippled and even when he recovered he sincerely doubted any decent form of work would take him.

Everywhere he looked, there was nothing.

He'd never expected to survive the war. But even when he did, he found that there was nothing more to live for.

Allen let out another sob, barely managing to keep it stifled behind his single hand, his single, weak, useless hand. Almost on instinct, he turned towards the training grounds. When he'd still been part of the Order, that was where he'd gone to think through things, and that's where he needed to go just...needed to clear his head. Just for a little while. Then he'd look at his options.

"Walker?" The Crow asked tentatively from somewhere behind him.

"I'm fine." Allen said, drawing his hand across his eye to wipe away his tears. "I'm going to visit the training grounds."

The Crow said nothing, so Allen went.

When he entered, Kanda was already there, running through kata with his sword. Allen thought that it was a little late in the day for Kanda to train, but then again, it had been two years since they had trained together. A lot could change in two years. A lot had changed. That was the whole problem, wasn't it?

Allen stood in the doorway for a few seconds, simply watching the graceful, flowing movements of an experienced swordsman in his element. Even though his fingers were still splinted, his technique was impeccable. There was something rhythmic about the blade, and the placement of the feet, almost like a dance of some sort. It seemed like forever since Allen had last glimpsed this side of Kanda, the one that didn't snap and snarl at all who tried to get close. His emotions settled a little with the serenity of the air in the room.

And that's when Allen's body reminded him that he couldn't go stomping off in a huff anymore, because his muscles were barely even there. The adrenaline that had sustained him left him abruptly, and it was all he could do not to collapse on his shaking legs. As it were, he had to prop himself up on the wall next to him just so he wouldn't fall over.

Kanda continued his kata, even though he must've realized that Allen was there by now. Allen was only relieved that he hadn't stopped, not sure he'd be able to deal with….any part of Kanda right now.

Allen watched for a few seconds more, before deciding to let himself slide to the ground in a slow, controlled descent. The wall was very handy for this maneuver, and within a minute he was safely sitting on the floor, arm curled loosely around his knees, which were pulled to his chest. The Crow, who had stopped behind him in the doorway previously, looked out of place and uncertain of what to do, now that Allen was sitting. Eventually it seemed as though he decided to wait outside again, though Allen couldn't help but wonder what the older man was thinking, considering last time he'd been alone with a friend had ended with him trapping his friend in a room with his wheelchair.

Allen sat there, simply watching as Kanda ran through all of his kata, and felt the tight knot of emotion fade ever-so-slightly. He was just-tired, of everything, including his own state-of-mind. He wanted to rest his burning eyes for a moment or two-not fall asleep, just….

"...no, I have him. That Crow he was with said he had something to handle back in the Bookman Junior's room." A sharp snort. "Something about a wheelchair?"

Allen heard voices encroaching in on his awareness, but he was also warm and drowsy, and his muscles ached with fatigue. He didn't move.

"Yeah, Allen and Lavi had a bit of a fight." Komui said, and then there was a rush of static as he let out a sigh, the golemn faithfully parroting his words. "I'm not exactly sure what was said, but Allen put on the wheelchair brakes and left it in Lavi's doorway. Because of Lavi's muscle atrophy, I assume he wasn't able to remove it by himself..."

Kanda snorted again loudly. Allen squinted open his eye, and found himself staring at the empty training mat, where Kanda had been practicing not long before. He blinked once or twice.

"Kanda, there is nothing funny about-"

"They're both fucking cripples and the brat locked his wheelchair in the doorway. What's not funny about that?"

Well, when Kanda put it that way.

Komui was silent for a moment, and Allen could almost imagine him searching for his patience. Or trying not to laugh, because Kanda had a habit of pointing out what was funny but offensive in any situation. Allen thought it was a bit like a useless superpower, only more likely to get Kanda punched in the face. Then, Komui finally said, "If he's still sleeping, can you wake him up at some point so he can sleep in his room? He's having a bit of a stressful time right now."

Kanda let out a grunt. "I thought he might. You mind telling me what the hell put that look on his face when even the fucking Noah couldn't?"

Allen raised his head a little, frowning, almost perfectly in time with Komui's sharp, "What look?"

Yeah, Allen asked silently. What look?

Kanda was quiet for a second, and Allen could almost see him scowling thoughtfully at the floor. Then he said, in a tone that was not quite done figuring out where it was going, "There was a look some of the men under my command used to get. Usually it was the finders. They would get to the point where they couldn't take any more and killed themselves. The beansprout had that exact look. Has."

Allen almost got up then, to tell Kanda off for reporting to Komui about his emotions. Kanda wasn't his keeper, not like the damn Crow was, and anyway, the ex-general didn't know Allen. He was just making a stab in the dark based on past experiences with his men, which fine, but-

Oh. He had been thinking about not carrying on anymore, hadn't he.

So he stayed silent, and continued to listen.

Komui seemed to digest this with sadness but no surprise. "It would be easier if he would talk to us, but...he won't. Not even to Lenalee. We're defending him as best we can to Central-he's getting questioned by them about the Fourteenth, by the way-but it's made more difficult because we don't really know what happened to Allen, or what the Fourteenth did when he had control of the body."

"He's fucking-after everything, Central-" Kanda broke off with an angry snarl. "No, I'm not surprised. And he's not talking to you because you're all fucking giving him pity and coddling him and shit. The beansprout got taken over by the Fourteenth when the war was at it's most violent. I know he's seventeen and all, but if you keep….treating him like he's still a child, he's going to self-destruct or some shit."

Komui was quiet, and Allen thought that it was probably a stunned silence. Maybe his mouth was slack, or his eyes were the size of dinner plates. He was in good company.

"That was…" Komui began delicately. "Surprisingly mature of you, Kanda."

"Have you forgotten sending me all of your damn child finders?" Kanda snarled in response.

"I see you've become a fine parent for your-"

"Oh fuck you." Kanda said, and destroyed the golemn.

Allen didn't even bother to hide that he'd been awake the entire time, just watched with calm eyes as the ex-general entered the training room in a huff. When Kanda noticed, he let out a low stream of curse words, immediately changing directions so that he stopped in front of Allen. "You were listening to that?"

"Did Komui really put all the youngest finders under your command?" Allen asked curiously, tilting his head up so he could see Kanda's properly.

He was not actually expecting a rational answer, so when Kanda shook his head and moved to sit next to Allen, he was a little shocked. "We didn't have a lot of exorcists at that point." He grunted out. "My command was one of the safest, because I would actually go out and kill shit without waiting for the Brass to get their head from their asses and tell me to."

Allen blinked, but then accepted that response-it made sense, of course. Komui detested the child soldiers, and always had; if not for Central, there would've been an age limit years ago. But Komui would've made every effort to keep them safe, and with very few exorcists left in the world….yes, Kanda had probably gotten more than a few followers at the time. It would explain the maturity as well-being responsible for the well-being of children changed people.

"But if you were listening in, you fucking nosy-"

"You weren't exactly trying to be quiet, Bakanda-"

"Oh my god shut the fuck up."

They fell into quiet, and the nostalgia was so strong Allen could almost taste it. He felt a little startled, a little breathless at how natural their interaction was. He was surprised by how much he had missed it.

"Anyway," Kanda said, shaking his long black hair out. "I meant every word. You need to...talk about shit. To people."

Allen stared. "Wow."

Kanda bared his teeth.

"How long did it take you to come up with that?" He asked, wonderingly. "It sounded like a lot of effort."

Kanda made to get up. "I'm not going to sit around and let a fucking cripple insult me-"

"Wait!" Allen shouted, lunging forward to grab Kanda's wrist to stop him. But his depth perception was still awful because he only had one eye, so he missed by a good inch and almost fell over because of it. He took a few breaths, like he always had to after getting violently reminded of his new disabilities, before settling his posture back down.

Kanda had luckily stopped anyway, and was watching him with an unreadable look.

"Look, I'll talk, but it has to be you." And Allen couldn't believe he was saying that, but… "I don't want anyone's pity, and I don't want advice on how to make myself better. I'll ignore it if you leave the golemn there to record our conversation, but it has to be to you."

Now Kanda was really staring. "Don't you hate me?" He asked incredulously.

Allen met his gaze with a hardened eye. "And that's why I'm willing to tell you."

Kanda looked as though he wanted to throw his hands up into the air, but was too proud to. Instead with struggled with himself for a second, obviously warring with the strong sense of responsibility being a general had given him, and his opinion that Allen Walker was at any given moment a complete waste of space to him.

Responsibility won out, but only just.

"You're fucking weird." Kanda told him, and visibly settled himself more comfortably on the floor. "If you start crying, I'm not going to hug you."

If Allen were feeling more confident that he wouldn't actually start crying, he would've made a snarky quip back. As it was, his emotional stability was so fragile at the moment that he was actually a little worried he would break down. He was just hoping that if that occurred, Kanda would look the other way until he could get himself under control.

He nodded weakly, and then began to talk, not knowing what else to do besides dive right in.

"There's-this is going to sound unbelievable and unrelated, but I promise I'm going somewhere." Kanda sent him a look that said, 'that's hardly reassuring'. "But there's um, a place in your head where all your memories and...stuff are stored. And I guess normally people's souls just develop with the person's personality, but…

"Mine really….didn't."

Allen paused and grimaced, because even thinking about it was frightening.

"The Fourteenth, he...he was implanted in my head years ago, and even though he was dormant, he….shaped my head space, I guess, so it was how he wanted it to look. He couldn't affect my personality, but he made certain…"

Allen could feel his breath coming faster.

"He made certain that my-memories, my soul, they were all built on his. His soul, that is. I could still function as myself on the surface, but below that he was there."

He smiled a little, bittersweet, at the floor, because in the end...in the end, it hadn't really mattered if he'd fought. The Fourteenth had always already been there, some creeping lurker in the shadows, waiting for the right moment. And the worst part-the part that kept Allen up at night, that sometimes gave him the most terrible panic-was that he hadn't noticed. He hadn't been able to tell when someone else was in his head, changing him. For all he knew the Noah could still be there, could still be waiting to...to change him. It was one of the main reasons he hadn't fought that hard when Central had come for him-because in the end, did they really know that the Fourteenth was gone?

"Beansprout?"

Allen jumped a little, having completely forgotten that Kanda was there. He frowned when he realized that he'd been so caught up in his thoughts that he had stopped speaking entirely. "Sorry, just...thinking. Anyway.

"When he decided that it was time to take me over, everything just….came out. He used the control he had on my soul to contain me in this-I guess the best descriptor for it is chair? It was all a little strange. I'm not entirely sure how to describe it. But he put me there, and made sure I could watch as he deconstructed my soul.

"He erased memory after memory, and eventually I stopped...being able to remember things."

Allen shuddered at the reminder-he remembered, very clearly, when he'd forgotten that his name was Allen. He'd known he had one, he was aware that his friends (the red one, and the black haired ones, and maybe the curly haired-) called him that, but he hadn't been able to recall it. That had been….

He shook himself, before he got lost again.

"It got to the point where I couldn't even remember who I was, much less the Fourteenth."

Allen finally glanced at Kanda, to gauge how he was taking the whole story. He didn't look angry at all, or even disgusted; he just looked completely calm, staring out at the far wall. Allen had never seen him so still.

Since there was no visible reaction, he took it as his cue to carry on.

"If he had taken any more, I would've been destroyed." Allen admitted conversationally. He...vaguely remembered that time, but he found it very hard to describe. It had been to the point where anything he thought was almost immediately forgotten, just a continuous stream of babbling thoughts that neither ended nor paused. And he supposed that if he were to feel it again he would recognize it instantly, but at the moment he could barely imagine it. Actually now that he considered it, remembering having no memories was a very odd sensation. He knew logically that he'd had no access to what he did now, that his amnesia had been soul-deep, but his recollection of that time hardly did it justice.

Souls were tricky business, after all. It was best if he stopped trying to think about it, before he went mad.

"Anyway. Then he just…. Came to me. He told me the war was over, and that I could go home now." Allen looked at the ceiling and laughed self-deprecatingly. "I didn't even recognize who was talking me. I asked him where I was and if he would mind helping me out of the chair."

Kanda made a choked noise in the back of his throat. Allen couldn't help grinning at him widely in amusement. "I know. But…" He sobered. "What I didn't know was that the-the Fourteenth...when he was destroying my mind and replacing it with his own, he….he was keeping all the pieces of my soul, just not in an...orderly fashion."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Kanda butted in finally, his impatience getting the better of him.

Allen shot him a glare. "It means that when Nea finally left my head he left me in pieces. I spent five months trying to put myself back together."

And oh, it had been exquisite hardship.

At first he hadn't even realized that anything was wrong-his soul, anyway. No memories and no idea what was going on, the manifestation of his soul had awoken to an endless black sea of shattered thoughts, the broken moon high above his head. He had puzzled over the silence, and the bright light of the moon, and the swirling eddies of emotion, not once wondering if he himself had a name. It was only when he'd touched one of the pieces of memory that he'd realized something was wrong, that he was….incomplete, somehow.

He'd spent what seemed like years collecting every scrap from the black sea, the moon his only company, wondering what would happen once he collected them all. And the more he collected, the more he thought, the more he remembered.

_The soul collected the memories of a young circus boy named Red, with suspicious grey eyes and blood-colored hair. He touched each piece as though it was precious, because somewhere deep down he knew that it was. And at the end, when the circus boy named Red was completed, all sharp corners and battered determination, the soul changed to match him._

_The soul became Red._

_And then Red continued searching, continued picking clean the bones of his thoughts, bringing them back in with greedy enthusiasm. He found the many shards of Allen the Apprentice, and the tall red one who soon became Cross the Master. He found the horror of debts, and the bright pride of sending the tortured soul of an akuma to God, and the many places he traveled. And at the end, when the soft-spoken, world-weary Apprentice called Allen was completed, the soul changed to match him._

But as he'd collected more and more pieces of himself, Allen the soul had also become more and more aware of the fact that these events had actually happened. There was a war out there somewhere, and he was stuck here, trying to piece together the disaster Nea had left behind him.

"I got a bit impatient at the end, though." Allen said, wincing a little. He'd been very careful putting together Red and Allen the Apprentice, because his soul had been such a young thing, and curious about its history. It treated every memory like it was made of gold, and so now he remembered his childhood more clearly than he did even before his coma. But after that... "As time passed, I realized that the events that I was piecing together were still happening. I wanted to get out as quickly as possible, and as soon as I knew how, I forced myself awake. But I think…." He let out a shaky laugh, rubbing his face with his single hand. "I think I'm missing something."

Kanda narrowed his eyes, fingers clenching and unclenching reflexively around his sword. "How do you mean?"

Allen lifted his hand into the air, and examined the pale smoothness of his skin. It was weird to think that he would never have a weirdly colored arm again-maybe now he would be let into the churches without having to wear long sleeves. "Sometimes I try to think back to that time just before I was taken over, and I feel as though...someone important isn't there."

He frowned, trying to figure out what exactly he was feeling, trying to put it in a way Kanda could understand. However he was having difficulty with it as well, and vocalizing any of the tangled mess of his head seemed next to impossible.

Allen opened his mouth to try, because Kanda deserved that much at least-

"Walker, it's almost past your curfew." The Crow said, poking his head through the doorway. For a brief second, the sensation of _wrongness_ and _something missing_ turned into something unbearable. But it passed before Allen could pin down why, and he was too tired to worry about that as well. So he simply sighed, nodded, and said goodbye to Kanda.

He left the swordsman sitting there, staring thoughtfully into nothing. Allen wondered what he was thinking so hard about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3\. I mean I didn't intend for Lavi to be such a bitter jerk, but it just kind of...turned out that way.


	5. Chapter 5

The third day of the questioning proved no more fruitful than the first. And now, there were more and more accusations being thrown at Allen as a person.

"He clearly let the Noah take him over," One person was saying, looking like he enjoyed his desk-life a bit more than he should. His dark hair was parted in greasy swirls, and his eyes glittered in his piggy face. "We should execute Walker even if he isn't a Noah, because-"

"Allen Walker has consistently been one of the most loyal soldiers we ever had." Komui broke in impatiently, even his nigh unflappable temper stretched to the breaking point. Allen sympathized, and honestly wished that Lenalee was sitting with him so he could rest his head on her shoulder and sleep. But she was up in the front with her brother today, defending Allen as well. "He has nearly died several times in the defense of his friends and allies, and-"

"That could've been a trick!" One man sniffed, his handlebar mustache twitching underneath his bulbous nose. "You trust him now. That must have been his evil plan!"

Lenalee broke in, her pretty lips twisted into a fearsome scowl. "The minute your Crow came to him for questioning, he went without protest. He certainly trusted you enough to give him a fair chance, rather than this farce!"

At her angry words, the men and women all broke into indignant mutters. No one said anything outright, of course, because Lenalee was the Heart and they still thought they could control her if they played along with her whims, but the belligerence was high in the air. Allen wondered how long it would take for them to turn on him and just kill him outright. He was half wishing for it, at this point; anything else would be leagues more interesting.

"Miss Lee, please." Said a light, cultured voice from the highest seat. All the others settled down at the woman's words, and even Komui and Lenalee looked alert. Allen knew that this person was the one the others deferred to, and though she rarely spoke, when she did it was thoughtful, pointed comments that made it clear she was probably the brightest of them all. "Komui Lee, we would be happy to excuse Allen Walker of all and every charge, if you could prove that he was not involved with the Fourteenth's plans."

Komui hesitated for a second before looking back at Allen, a pleading look on his face. Obviously they had no way to prove whether or not he had been an accomplice. He wished he had some way to show them-

"I believe I can help you with that."

Allen jumped on his bench, his heart rate suddenly tripling in a second. He-he knew that voice, but-

A tall man walked into the room, long blond hair elaborately braided down his back. He was wearing traveling clothes, dust imprinted in every seam, and his skin was tanned from the sun. He walked with confidence, as though every step was planned out before it was taken, as though he knew his place in the world and was content. His eyes were dark and sharp, and there were two odd spots on his forehead.

"And who might you be?" The woman asked politely, even as Komui and Lenalee's mouths dropped like stones.

"Howard Link, personal assistant to the recently deceased Malcolm Levierre." The man introduced himself, sketching a low bow.(4)

_Link, offering a pie to Allen when they first met-_

_"Heya Spots!" Lavi shouted, draping himself over Link's shoulders-_

_"Don't move, Nea." Link said, leaning back tiredly. "This will take longer than expected to heal."_

_"Link, it's me." Allen rasped, fighting through the pain to stay awake, keep his grasp on his body. "Link, you need to tell the Order-"_

Unnoticed, Allen gasped silently as wave after wave of memory crashed through his mind, dragging forgotten thoughts from the depths of his soul. He could almost hear his memories clicking where the puzzle pieces fit back in, and for a second his vision funneled, as though he were about to pass out. But then luckily everything snapped back into place, leaving him trembling and shaking, heaving for breath, under the weight of the new knowledge.

As stunned whispers broke out across all assembled, Allen could only stare in shock at the ex-Crow. He'd known he was missing something, he just hadn't realized that it was a _person!_

Link looked over and spotted him immediately, and allowed a small smirk to grace his lips. He nodded his head slightly, and Allen barely had the presence of mind to return the silent greeting. He just couldn't believe it...it had been five months, and all that time he hadn't retrieved a single memory about his friend!

Link turned back to the panel of interrogators, every movement a study in grace. "I have proof that Allen Walker fought the Fourteenth with everything he had, and that the two despised each other."

One of the other women, a slight thing who's hatred was as strong as the tide, said waspishly, "And where were you with this information weeks ago?"

Link smiled very faintly, reached into his pocket…

And retrieved Timcampy.

The little golden ball launched into the air and began swirling around the room. He paused to tug at Lenalee's hair, knocked off Komui's beret, and then flew right for Allen.

"Timcampy!" He cried, delighted, right before the golemn clamped his jaws down on Allen's head. He winced, but accepted the affectionate greeting with grace. "Where on earth have you been?"

"He was helping me look for Cross." Link admitted, and Allen turned to stare at him, even as Timcampy let go of his head and began to bury himself in pearly white hair. "That's actually the reason why I'm late. I came as soon as I heard you had been taken in."

Which meant that Link had clearly kept up with his contacts in Crow. That was useful information, though Allen wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do with it. He was honestly just relieved that Link was alive, and that he remembered him now.

"I'm happy you're here, Link." Allen said sincerely, smiling at his friend.

Link coughed into his palm, and for a second Allen thought that the Inspector's ears had turned pink. "Yes, well." He turned away back to the brass of the Order. "The golemn I brought with me has all memories of my time I traveled with the Fourteenth."

"You traveled with the Noah?" Mustache snarled.

"I was ordered to by Malcolm Levierre." Link responded with frank honesty. "All members of Crow were expected to perform duties that seemed distasteful to other people. Levierre took a gamble by ordering me to assist the Fourteenth, but in the end that gamble proved very fortuitous."

"You were the Fourteenth's closest confidant, then." One of the interrogators, a short man with grizzled hair, leaned forwards on his elbows, fascinated.

Link scoffed at that. "The Fourteenth didn't trust me. He accepted my help only because he knew he could kill me if I ever betrayed him." His expression faded into a grim smile. "However during the times when Allen Walker was in control-I was _his_ closest confidant."

And then, very subtly, Link glanced at Allen, a question in his eyes.

Allen stared back, confused, wondering what the Inspector could possibly want. And then he realized, that Link was asking for permission to break that confidence, to reveal to these people Allen's deepest insecurities. He hadn't been expecting that-recently everyone had made it their business to get into his business, to pick and question and drag his deepest thoughts from his head.

Even though he knew that he really had no choice in the matter, he appreciated the illusion of choice he was being given.

He nodded at Link, as subtly as he could.

Link looked visibly relieved for a bare moment, and then he schooled his expression and turned back to look at the interrogators. "I was with Allen Walker for almost the entire year and a half he was being possessed by the Fourteenth. And I can say with absolute certainty that they despised each other with almost everything they had, and wanted no part in each other."

"That's just words, Inspector Link." Pig-face said in a voice that was as triumphant as it was smug, clearly believing that he had the upper hand. "You have no actual proof that Walker and the Fourteenth weren't working together."

Link held his hand out to one side, and silently beckoned in Allen's direction. Allen stared at him for a moment, confused-but then the comfortable weight on his head vanished, and Timcampy flew smack into Link's palm. The little golemn immediately turned towards the sky, and a projection quickly appeared in the air.

_Link sat on the train, flipping through a newspaper as the world scrolled by. Allen sat in front of him, head resting against the wall, face relaxed in sleep._

_Until it wasn't._

_The boy jerked upright, gasping as though he'd just surface for air after a long time underwater. Link jumped in surprise at the sudden movement, but quickly settled down when he realized that there was no threat._

_"Fourteenth?" He asked._

_"No, it's me." Allen gasped out, limbs trembling subtly. "Where are we?"_

_Link looked out the window, considering. "We….left the train station from Germany about two hours ago, and are going to Russia. Moscow, specifically."_

_"We're getting off at the next station." Allen said and picked up his coat, hastily pulling it over his shoulders._

_Link rose to meet him, bewildered. "What?"_

_"Whatever he has planned for Russia, it can't be good." Allen growled. "Where are we stopping next? Poland? Good. Hopefully we can get as far as Africa before the Fourteenth retakes control."_

Link ended the projection and sent an amused look at Allen, who was blushing at the floor. He hadn't remembered that until now, and he was a little surprised at his own boldness and cheek. Some of the interrogators, the more sympathetic ones anyway, were chuckling to themselves a little. "As you can see, Allen did his best to disrupt any plans the Noah had."

"Did you ever get to Africa?" One of the Interrogators asked.

"We got as far as Morocco before the Fourteenth regained control." Link's expression of mirth faded into a grim frown. "He was...not pleased."

Then he extended Timcampy to the sky again.

_Link was still flipping through his newspaper, though he looked significantly more tired than earlier. This was because Allen Walker had taken them on a nonsensical, high-speed course through the European train system. He now knew more about illegally sneaking onto trains than he had ever wanted to in this lifetime._

_Said boy was now sleeping again, though he'd been chipper earlier on, when he'd been gleefully foiling all of the Noah's plans._

_Allen Walker suddenly let out a groan, and his arms came up to cover the top of his white head._

_"Walker?" Link asked, frowning, lowering the newspaper down into his lap. "Are you alright?"_

_"I'm not that fucking idiot." A low growl broke out from beneath his covered head, a snarl that sent chills up and down Link's spine (and those watching the projection). "I fucking hate that stupid brat. He's fucking ruining all my plans and I hate I hate I hate I hate…."_

The projection broke off.

All of the interrogators looked visibly rattled, even the ones who had been the harshest on Allen. No one could argue, now, that the ex-exorcist and the Fourteenth were working together, at the beginning at least. The depths of the Fourteenth's hatred was something they simply couldn't comprehend, on a level they had simply never experienced. However the idea of it left them all a little terrified.

But Link wasn't finished yet. He whispered something to Timcampy, and then said, "Later on, Walker wouldn't have been able to assist the Fourteenth, even if he had wanted to."

_Link sat at a table, methodically sewing shut a hole in his clothing. He was obviously in a hotel room, and not a very fancy one at that; there was something that looked like mold on the walls, and the single bed was already occupied by Allen._

_A clock chimed on the wall._

_Allen suddenly let out a soft sound of pain, and rolled over in the bed. Link paused in his rhythmic motions, lips downturning into a worried frown, before dismissing it and going back to his sewing._

_Then Allen let out a choked sob._

_Link rose up in an instant, abandoning his clothes to the table. He crossed the whole room in two strides, and carefully knelt down next to the exorcist lying curled in the bed. "Allen?" He asked, very softly._

_Allen looked up, and Link was just able to catch sight of twin tear tracks carving lines into Allen's face before the boy looked away. He heaved a breath once, twice, and then lunged out of the bed, pushing past Link and hurrying into the bathroom. Soon enough, the sounds of retching became audible._

_Link sighed, and followed Allen into the bathroom, where he was leaning up against the toilet, eyes bright. The Inspector knelt in front of the boy, and carefully, ever so carefully, drew him into a hug._

_Allen burst into tears._

_Link said nothing at all, simply letting Allen cry in his arms, ignoring as a wet patch slowly began growing on his shoulder. Allen also made no sound except for the soft intake of breath, his tears as quiet as silence. His fingers clutched and released at the folds of Link's shirt, as though he were drowning and seeking something to pull him up for air._

(Allen looked away from his weakness, ashamed. But he also remembered this exact moment, with such clarity that he knew he would probably never forget.)

_"He's in my_ head, _Link." Allen gasped out, voice slightly muffled by the jacket._

_Link cupped the back of Allen's head with one hand, as though he were a child. In a way, he still was. "I know."_

_"He's destroying my memories." Allen whispered, so quiet it was barely audible. "I-one day I'll forget everything, and I can't stop it. There's no point in fighting. He'll win anyway."_

Allen hadn't realized until that point how useless it was resisting Nea's slow invasion. He'd fought and howled at the world that he wasn't giving in, he wasn't, but up until then he'd still believed that he could win. But even if he fought-even when he fought-always, Nea tied him up in the chair of his mind and forced him to watch as his memories were slowly destroyed. Forced him to watch as his reason for fighting, his friends, everything he had been and wanted to be was taken away.

In the ringing, stunned silence that followed, Link said quietly, "By the end of the fifth month Walker couldn't remember my name. After a year, he told me that his name was Red and that he was just a circus boy." Link grimaced, as though there was a bad taste in his mouth. "I think that the only reason Allen was given control was because the Fourteenth wanted me to see.

"Allen Walker was a fifteen-year-old boy who wanted to keep his friends safe. Even though he knew it was fruitless, he resisted the Fourteenth with everything he had." Link carefully did not look at Allen as he said, "I have been with the Order since I was just a small child, and I have met many warriors over the years. However I have never respected anyone more than Allen Walker."

The silence in the room was absolutely thunderous. They were all looking at Allen, or looking away from Allen-but they were all seeing him anew. The ex-exorcist could see it in their eyes, see their hate and anger shift into something considering. There was pity, or blatant curiosity, or simmering disbelief, but it mattered little. Because they were all thinking. And maybe, just maybe, Allen had a chance.

The woman in charge was the first to break out of her stupor, and she did so with considerable grace. She cleared her throat gently to catch the attention of the others, and said, "I think that's quite enough for the day, don't you?"

The others slowly same alive at the sound of her voice, and a quiet murmur of agreement swept over the room. Even Komui and Lenalee were still looking a bit stunned, and the latter swiped at her eyes harshly before turning away.

As the interrogators began filing out of the room, Allen's eye was all for Link.

"Link!" He cried, rising from his wheelchair to greet his friend. He struggled with the many benches in the back of the room, cursing his own weakness. Once he cleared them, though, he realized that Link had moved forwards to greet him, a soft smile on his lips.

When Allen extended his arm, Link quickly came in for a hug.

"I never thought I'd see you again." He said, a lump rising up in his throat.

"The feeling was mutual." The Inspector responded, his arms warm and reassuring on Allen's back. "I thought it might be too late for you, at the end."

Allen reluctantly drew back, but kept his hand resting in Link's elbow. The Inspector raised an eyebrow at him, but submitted to Allen's critical scan without protest. He'd lost a lot of weight since Allen had last seen him, face almost gaunt it was so thin. His clothes were almost worn through, but his eyes were bright and still alive with intelligence. He was okay, thank God.

"It almost was." Allen admitted in response to Link's question. "Any longer and I don't think I would've been able to rebuild. Have you been eating properly? You always forget your health when you've been traveling a while."

Link rolled his eyes good-naturedly, and it was then that Tim finally decided he'd had enough of flitting around their heads, because he took a nose-dive into Allen's hair. That startled a laugh out of the two of them. "Don't worry so much. I've got Timcampy taking care of me."

"And we're relieved for it." A voice suddenly cut in, causing the two to jump. Komui grinned at them, and Lenalee stood just behind them, obviously having watched the entire spectacle.

Allen smiled back sheepishly, so caught up in the reunion that he'd forgotten that Lenalee and Komui were still there. Link, ever embarrassed by PDI, took a step back from Allen and coughed delicately into his hand.

"What took you so long to come back?" Lenalee asked Link curiously, the hardness in her eyes somewhat betraying her light tone. She obviously took issue with Link about the fact that he'd apparently abandoned his friend for five months.

"Like I said." Link responded, a little coolly. "I was hunting down Cross Marian, at Allen's request, actually."

Allen jumped in there, ready with an explanation. "Early on when we were traveling together, I had reason to believe that he was in trouble. I asked Link that if we didn't find Master before the end of the War, he would find him for me."

"I would've come back the moment I heard Allen had woken up," Link continued before Lenalee could respond, glancing at Allen apologetically, "But I wasn't able to get in contact with Crow until essentially the day the interrogation began."

"Don't worry about it, Link." Allen said quickly. "I'm just glad you made it back at all."

It was then that Allen realized that both Lenalee and Komui were giving the two of them odd looks. He frowned a little, wishing that he had more of a chance to catch up with his friend in private. They had become very close, that time when they'd been traveling together. Link had been a soothing balm for the ragged emotional wounds the Fourteenth was leaving behind, and Allen had essentially played nursemaid for the Inspector when he could. Nea had cared little for Link's health.

But now Link was back, and so were his memories.

Everything would be okay. He hoped, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4\. Tbh I actually forgot all about Link. Instead he got a very dramatic entrance so it all worked out.


	6. Chapter 6

Because of Link's heartfelt defense, the Interrogators gave up all attempts to villainize Allen, which was a relief. The were now sort of seeing him as human, rather than Noah, which was making the questioning much easier as well. Of course many of them hadn't given up the whole, 'Fourteenth is Satan let's kill all associated with him' shtick, so now they were trying to argue their case in a more subtle way.

Allen was tired of it all, and just wished he could go to sleep without the Crow standing over him. Did those guys actually rest, or had Levierre somehow fucked with their brain patterns so badly that they couldn't?

Now that he thought about it, he'd only seen Link sleep once or twice. There may be some fact to Allen's wild guess.

As he rested his head on Lenalee's shoulder, he considered this drowsily, staring blankly at the wood grain of the bench in front of him. He considered tuning back into the conversation, just to see what they were trying to pin him down with now, before deciding against it. It wasn't worth the trouble. He wished Link were here, but the Inspector had been firmly not-invited to the rest of the proceedings, now that he had said his piece.

"Are you okay?" Lenalee asked him quietly, and he lifted his head slightly.

He thought about that question for a second, before shrugging his good shoulder slightly. "I don't know." He admitted. "Sometimes I think everything's okay, and then something crazy happens." He squinted up at her. "Are _you_ okay?"

That question seemed to stump her. She chewed her lip thoughtfully, silent for a moment, letting the babble of voices wash over them. Lenalee looked tired and drawn, and there was a new scar on her chin that looked like it had been deep and painful. She was fierce and beautiful, and she had become the type of soldier that Allen would have been proud to serve with.

She let out a soft snort, and said, a little wearily, "I think you summed it up best."

Allen accepted that answer with a soft sigh, closed his eye, and allowed himself to drift, letting the world fade into white noise. He only caught snippets of the conversation, but that served him just fine; he was sick of all the accusations anyway.

"...think it's clear...not a Noah…" Komui was saying, and Allen smiled softly, grateful that he still had someone who believed in him enough to defend him. "Just because...was a Noah...doesn't mean…"

"We understand." The woman apparently in charge said, her seemingly endless patience beginning to strain at the end of its tether. It had been a long four days for everyone involved. "But we need proof that the Fourteenth is no longer inside of him."

There was no proof, of course. There was no way to prove whether or not Nea had actually died with the Millennium Earl-after all, Allen hadn't even noticed the first slow invasion of his soul. For all any of them knew, Nea was lying in wait, preparing for Allen to let his guard down and destroy everything he'd worked so hard to rebuild. It sounded a little crazy, once one thought about it, but Allen had been screwed over one too many times, and he was starting to notice a very distinct pattern in his luck. In that, he had none.

But then, Lenalee stiffened.

He wouldn't have noticed it if he didn't have his head resting on her shoulder, it was such a little movement. He might have even written it off as Lenalee shifting a little, if Komui had not paused for a second in his words. Komui did not pause to think about things; he was a brilliant scientist, and there was absolutely no way he hadn't anticipated a question like that.

"Lenalee?" Allen asked, lifting his head from her shoulder so he could look her in the eye. She didn't respond, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on her brother.

"There isn't a way." Komui said firmly, as believable as he ever was.

"Why is he lying?" Allen hissed, feeling anger building in his chest like a black storm, wondering why on earth they could be hiding this from him. They had to know how much this meant to him, how much worry it would relieve if he knew for certain that the Fourteenth no longer lived. They had to know about him waking up in the middle of the night, clawing at the blankets and heaving for air because he thought that he was still fighting the Fourteenth. They had to know how important it was that he could put this all behind him, that he could finally be at peace-

"It's dangerous, Allen." Lenalee gritted out, still refusing to look at him, because she was also apparently a coward. "It's highly traumatic for all parties involved. Drop it."

Allen let out an annoyed growl, and rose to his feet, shaking off Lenalee's hand on his arm. He noticed a few Investigators looking at him disapprovingly, unhappy about him disrupting the proceedings, but he couldn't care less. This was important. "Komui!" He shouted.

Komui jumped and turned around, sending Allen a dear-in-the-carriage lights look, and the reproving muttering from the Investigators got even louder. "Allen?"

"I meant what I said." Allen said calmly, clenching his fist at his side and refusing to look away from Komui's wide eyes. He would not back down, not for this. "I want complete absolution. Whatever it takes."

The Investigators, although they were still frowning, were now glancing curiously between the two of them, trying to puzzle out that mysterious exchange. They shuffled amongst themselves, obviously uncertain of how to proceed, clearly waiting for someone else to say something. The woman in charge was staring down at Komui with a hawk-like gaze, her dark eyes suspicious and knowing.

Allen ignored it all, and simply stared down Komui with everything he had, putting all the determination and resolve that he could not say into his very being. Komui had to understand how much Allen needed this. He had to.

"Lee?" The woman in charge asked, her voice prompting and harsh.

Komui blinked and shook his head, finally turning his gaze away from Allen, looking almost humbled somehow. He shifted so he was fully facing the panel of Investigators, and then looked up into them. "I apologize, I gave some misinformation. There is a procedure, but it was decided to be too dangerous by the Science Department."

"Brother!" Lenalee shouted, half-rising out of her seat, aghast. "It's not safe!"

"Do it." Ordered the woman, her expression grim but firm.

"This is what he wants, Lenalee." Komui told his sister, not turning around to face her. To the woman above, he said, "I understand. You will have the proof you need by this time tomorrow."

"Dismissed!" She responded very, very quickly, probably because Lenalee now looked like wrath incarnate, bearing down on her brother with the anger of God on her face. The other Investigators cleared out of the room very quickly (except for one who tried to stop and watch curiously, but was ushered out), determined to avoid the inevitable blowup between the two siblings.

Komui turned to meet her, his eyes flinty with determination, and Allen realized that this was one of the rare moments when he'd refuse to back down from his little sister. He was going to fight for Allen's right to have the procedure, his sister's anger be damned.

Allen hurried to detangle his wheelchair from the benches, because whether or not he actually wanted to get involved (he didn't), this was undeniably about him. He wanted to support Komui's defense, because even with that iron-refusal to back down, this would not be a battle easily won.

"What are you thinking?!" Lenalee spat the minute she was within speaking range, her amethyst eyes glittering. "He's had enough people digging in his head without this procedure, you know how it could affect him!"

"He can handle it." Komui said firmly, and for the first time Allen was truly grateful that Kanda had taken the time to speak to the scientist. As much as he liked Lenalee, she had honestly coddled him the most, which was beyond irritating. "This is what he needs, can't you see that?"

If Lenalee had been a cat, she would have been hissing and spitting up a storm, black fur puffed out around her in an angry ball. In her human skin, though, she apparently found her way of displaying anger dissatisfying, because she was pacing back and forth and waving her arms about her. "You would risk his mental health on a technique that might not even work?" She snarled. "Do I have to remind you that the last people who attempted it ended up in a mental ward?"

"I don't care about that, Lenalee." Allen interrupted gently, having finally abandoned the wheelchair back with the benches-bloody maze. Komui sent him a grateful look, and stepped back slightly to let Allen talk to his sister. "I need to know, even if it kills me. I can't keep waking up to nightmares. I need to know whether or not there's the slightest chance that I might accidentally end up killing someone."

His honest words seemed to calm some of her anger, and she turned to look at him, eyes big and pleading. To Allen's surprise, he honestly thought she might start crying, she looked so distressed. "But Allen…"

"We can't protect him forever." Komui broke in softly, and tentatively took his sister's arm, giving her plenty of space to back away. When she didn't, he carefully closed the distance and pulled her into a hug, and she let him, resting her chin on his shoulder.

She sighed and pressed her eyes into his jacket, reaching up to wrap her arms around his shoulders. "I know. But…"

Allen raised an eyebrow at the two of them, because he was pretty certain that this was a more extreme reaction than the situation necessarily warranted. He of course suspected that Komui and Lenalee had been trying to make the situation sound better than it actually was, but this was something else entirely. What were they hiding from him that could make Lenalee react so badly?

Hopefully they would tell him soon.

\-------------

The Soul, buried deep beneath layers of thoughts and memories and emotions, suddenly got the feeling that it was being….disturbed.

It turned it's attention away from it's reconstruction efforts, and to the strange movements on the edges of it's awareness. If it had possessed a body it would've been frowning darkly, because it remembered another disturbance, a very long time ago. It remembered pain of the worst kind, _Mana was gone, Mana was dead, and it was all his fault_ -and then the soul had been invaded. While the Soul had still been reeling from it's aching wounds, something had come inside, taken up a place that was sacred.

It had been many years since then, but the Soul never forgot.

So it surfaced from it's comforting rest, gently pushing away tendrils of emotions and motes of ideas, and circled the mindscape. The field of wildflowers was only half-finished, and the sky still had its broken moon up ahead, but there was...progress. The Soul was relieved; it had half expected that it couldn't rebuild it's inner world after the Intruder had destroyed it so completely.

(The Intruder had made a chair, and a black sky with the moon crumbling high above, and a lake. The Soul had hated it, had hated it and chafed against it's restraints, but inevitably could do nothing to stop it. And when the Intruder had left, it had exploded everything, callously tossing everything Allen Walker was into the very depths of his mind.)

The Soul examined the new Disturbance, watching with wary curiosity as the presence explored the small field of flowers. It frowned a little, because the Disturbance didn't look like it was trying to ruin all it's hard work, but still. The Soul reached for the impressions of everyone it had in Allen Walker's life, and tried to find the ones that matched this person.

A second later, the Soul shivered a little, because it had found the correct impressions for this presence. This Invader, while not exactly an expected guest, was not an enemy, and was in fact welcome into Allen Walker's world.

Understanding this, the Soul sent a curious, happy greeting towards the presence, a gentle inquiry curled gently around a bright fondness of meeting a friend. (5)

The Presence-and he was called the Brother, that was right, because even though he was sometimes the Scientist he was the Brother right down to his core-jumped and turned around, looking wildly for the source of the inquiry. In fact, now that the Soul considered it, he looked a little spooked, shifting uncomfortable as he stared about him. The Soul wondered why the Brother had reacted this way-surely he wasn't here for nefarious reasons, that message had been far kinder than most-but then it remembered.

Of course-this was not just the Brother, but the consciousness of the Brother. The consciousness did not use impressions and feelings to speak, and as such did not understand the Soul when it spoke in it's own way. The Soul barely understood the consciousness's way of communicating, with blocky, chunky words that did not nearly convey the meaning it wanted (how did one convey the exact shade of appreciation, or the exact depth of sadness when it's only medium was a few syllables?). However, it would have to try.

The Soul pulled from the Memories nearby, being ever so gentle not to damage the frayed, tattered tapestry (the Intruder had been least kind to these), and gave itself a physical form to walk in. It poured itself into the body, trying to fit all it's layers and ideas into a construct that the Brother could understand, and was barely successful. It felt tight in it's new skin, confined and trapped, but now the Brother could see and understand it, so that was...okay.

It touched down on the edge of the field of flowers, and began to walk unsteadily towards the Brother, who hadn't yet noticed him (and walking was so very strange, wasn't it so tedious to remain upright at all times?). It twisted it's mouth around as it approached, trying to imitate how the body communicated with the people around it, and said, "Hello, the Brother."

The Brother jumped and turned around, staring in shock at the form the Soul had decided to take. "A-Allen?" Then he frowned. "What did you just call me?"

The Soul stared at him, befuddled, uncertain how to explain that the Brother's sensations and impressions made him the Brother. He was a series of memories and thoughts all compiled into one, and all interactions between him and Allen, all their shared memories, painted him into one picture. How was he supposed to explain this to a being who wasn't a soul, who didn't speak the language of their kind?

The Soul decided that it was worth the risk to show the Brother, to try and explain in it's own language. So it steadied itself (which apparently translated into a preparatory breath in a body, who knew), and sent a series of impressions and images at him, willing him to understand.

_-Komui Lee, grinning wide at Allen Walker, and a curl of fondness unfurled in his chest. "Welcome home!" The older man told the scarred exorcist, and this-this feeling was new, because Allen had never had a home before, never had a place he knew he could return to-_

_-Komui didn't want Lenalee to fight, he was all gritted teeth and sharp anger, and his protective wrath was truly terrifying to behold. Even if he was naive, because Lenalee had to fight, she was a soldier and she wanted to protect her friends, he still didn't care. He just wanted all the children to be safe-_

_-Komui, who thought Lenalee was dead, was broken inside. It had been his job to protect his sister, and he had saved her before, he wanted to save her as many times as he needed to. But now it was impossible, because she was dead, and-_

The Brother doubled over, gasping at the onslaught of memories that the Soul had given him. The Soul winced-it supposed that to a being unused to communicating in thoughts and memories, this would be a little frightening. Being forced to feel and remember things that weren't your own memories-well, Allen Walker knew all about that, and the trauma had lingered.

But a second later, the Brother flew upright, so quickly that it startled the Soul. His eyes were bright and wide, and there was a manic glee on his face that the Soul didn't know or understand. "That was incredible. So you're, what-the Soul? Is that how all Souls communicate? I didn't really understand Allen when he said that, but-"

Ah, the Soul understood now. The Brother had taken a step back and let the Scientist through. The Soul smiled indulgently and nodded, quite pleased that someone was properly appreciating his language. Even Allen had simply tolerated it.

The Scientist stopped babbling for a second and simply stared at the Soul, eyes wide with awe. "Wow." He breathed.

The Soul's grin widened. Indeed, wow.

Then the Scientist shook his head, and the Brother took control again, letting his expression dim into grimness. "But-that's not why I'm here, actually. I'm looking for something."

"A memory?" The Soul responded politely, tilting his head in what he knew was a curious manner. Ugh, he hated this stunted way of communicating, the meaning never quite came across correctly.

"More like…" The Brother frowned, thinking. "Do you...remembered an invasion of this place? It would have been several years ago, and the person doing it would not have been...friendly."

The Soul reacted without thinking. It sent Komui a battering tide of images, _of wrongness, violation, fear that never ended and never stopped._ It sent _unstoppable rage at everything, helpless anger at the unfairness of the life he would never live, and betrayal so thick it clogged the throat._ And it sent a memory after that, _of Allen chained to the chair, staring into nothing as his mind was destroyed in front of him, helpless._ And finally, it sent _Allen's determination, him staring down Komui with steady eyes and saying,_ "I will only accept complete absolution."

The Brother was not prepared for such an intense flow of emotions, and especially not the vibrant memories that had come along with them. Within a second he was curled on the grass, shaking and trembling under the weight of the attack, tears coursing down his face. The Soul let out a cry of anguish, and dropped to his knees next to the Brother, gently reaching out to pull the man's head onto his lap.

Then it gently, ever so carefully, began running soothing, relaxing emotions into the Brother's chaotic ones. It did not press, but fed the Brother a series of happy, gentle things, like sleeping in the sun on a rock, boneless and a bunch of stray kittens played around his feet, and one of them curled in his lap, purring happily. As it did so it gently began running it's fingers through the man's black hair, because that was a human thing to do, and eventually the Brother's emotions quieted.

The Soul pulled back it's touch on his mind, feeling downright miserable. It was barely holding back the feelings of guilt as an apology, because it had already done enough damage with it's bumbling. People were so fragile.

The Brother groaned and looked up, blinking wearily at the Soul's bright eyes, and then blinking faster in confusion when he realized that it was crying. Then he noticed that he was lying on the Soul's lap, because he very quickly rolled off, suddenly remembering to be embarrassed about that display of emotion.

The Soul curled it's hands in it's lap, and tears continued to course down it's face. "I'm sorry." It said as meaningfully as it could.

"I suddenly understand why this was considered to be so dangerous. Souls feel emotions so much more strongly." The Brother said shakily, the Scientist barely teetering in on the edges of his words. Then he took a deep breath, and rose to his feet, before offering the Soul a hand up. "It's okay. The Fourteenth-he scared you, and you just had a bad reaction. I understand."

Relieved, the Soul took the hand and got to it's feet, wiping away the tears from it's eyes. "Thank you," He said with as much sincerity as he could muster, which for some reason made the Brother look very embarrassed. "Yes," It said very firmly, because it was doing this the human way now. "I do remember who you speak of."

The Brother's mouth opened slightly, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, before snapping shut with a click. He looked away and muttered under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like, "Well obviously," before slowly shaking his head and turning back. "Do you know if he's still here? The Intruder, that is."

The Soul breathed in and out a little harshly as it fought back the rush of impressions that question brought back. It shut it's eyes and bit it's lip, trying to quell the storm building inside, and the landscape around them responded in kind-the wind suddenly picked up where there had been none, and the shadows of clouds covered the bright light of the broken moon.

When it opened it's eyes again, the Brother was giving him a very wide-eyed gaze, trepidation in the set of his jawline. As the Soul spoke, it's breath came out foggy, as though the temperature had just dropped several degrees. The flowers around them suddenly got a very thin layer of frost. "The Incomplete is no longer within me." He said very firmly. "He is dead."

The Brother swallowed a little, and his fear was almost palpable, but the Soul could either control it's emotions in this way or push the impressions onto the other man. It would not apologize for doing what needed to be done to keep his mind safe. "I...see." He paused. "And you know for certain?"

The Soul narrowed it's eyes, and then (just once more, because it needed the Brother to understand this, and no words could make it understood) it carefully gave him an impression. And not of emotions, not in a way that the Brother normally understood, but part of the Soul's own recollection.

_The Soul waited for years, waited for Allen Walker to notice the little parasite in his head. It bore the Intruder like a cancer, watching with resigned horror as it slowly took over everything. Allen Walker was not his Soul, and it had never regretted this more than it did now, because it could not tell him what he needed to know to save himself._

_And then the Intruder was gone, and the Soul was free._

The Brother breathed out shakily, but was obviously less affected by this than the raw human emotions from earlier. He considered this for a moment, this impression of years stuffed down into a single packet of information, and then let out a soft sigh. "Truly," The Scientist said. "Truly incredible."

The Soul inclined it's head slightly in acknowledgement, knowing that it was almost time for the other man to leave. Honestly, remaining here was starting to become a danger to this consciousness. It made to say goodbye, before something suddenly occurred to it. "I have a favor to ask of you, regarding Allen Walker."

The Brother looked surprised by the request, but nodded easily enough, looking more curious than anything. "Of course."

The Soul reached out with one hand, and from the depths of itself rose the manifestation of Allen Walker's Memories. The manifestation looked just as battered and pathetic as the boy's actual memories, because he was still putting them back together. It was a long and arduous process, but the main problem was- "These are Allen Walker's memories."

The Brother let out an unexpected snort. "It looks like Timcampy."

The Soul tilted his head, and as it remembered the manifestation open it's mouth, and out flew the memory of the golden golemn. The Soul observed the memory for a moment, taking in all the details, before admitting that it did, in fact, look like the manifestation of Allen's Memories. "How unusual." It said, and then grimaced. "But you-you see how the Memories look."

The Brother frowned at the manifestation, clearly just taking in the many scars and wounds that decorated the tiny thing. He then got this odd expression on his face, like he was just realizing something, and glanced around the mental landscape. The Soul waited patiently for him to finish his scan, and for him to come to the conclusion that for a mental landscape, this one was rather...small. "Allen….he said that the Fourteenth was destroying his mind."

"I haven't fixed all the damage." The Soul admitted uneasily, letting the manifestation of Memories fall back into the depths of itself. It ran it's hands through it's white hair, face twisting into a grimace. "If this place gets a really big shock, it'll shatter. I'll have to start from scratch to rebuild, which would...not be a good idea, I think."

"Clearly." The Brother said faintly, looking very pale all of a sudden.

"If you love him, take care of my Allen." The Soul told him very seriously. "I'm honestly not sure we could survive another experience like this."

"You have my word." The Brother said grimly, and there was a such a look of certain solemnity on his face that the Soul couldn't help but to believe him.(6)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who wanted more weird mind-bendy stuff?
> 
> 5) I had a lot of trouble trying to figure out how this scenario was going to go, specifically how Allen’s soul and Komui would communicate. I didn’t want Komui to be speaking to Allen in his head, because that would be like speaking to him normally. But then I thought about the soul of a person, and how it’s considered to be the basis of every human being, and decided that would be a great thing to use. I hope it’s not too weird.  
> 6) I actually had a super difficult time writing this part. It was really hard integrating the whole messy soul business with actual people. I hope it vaguely makes sense?  
> a) Actually it was about this point that I went I have about thirty thousand words of fanfiction on my Google Docs what the fuck am I doing with my life.


	7. Chapter 7

_"I know, with absolute certainty, that the Noah that resided within Allen Walker is gone. I swear on the sister I love, the Order I serve, and the God you and I believe in."_

Komui's voice was ragged and scratchy as it echoed throughout the room, but audible. The golemn that had faithfully recorded his words-because the procedure had been dangerous, and Komui had only had a minute to give his report and reassure his sister that he would be okay before passing out-shuddered a little, before cutting off. The silence it left behind was heavy, weighted with words unsaid and bated breath. No one dared break it, for fear of that weight coming down on them.

They were probably just realizing that they had spent five useless days accusing a loyal teenage soldier of treason. At least, that was what Lenalee hoped.

And then sound entered the room, and it was the form of the shaky gasp of air Allen took as he slid from his wheelchair to the floor.

It was as though a spell had been broken in the room. Lenalee lept to her feet and let out an undignified whoop, completely ignoring the fact that Allen was having a heart attack. She picked him up from the floor, smacked a kiss onto his clammy forehead, and then dropped him. He stared up at her, stunned, single grey eye wide and uncomprehending. Then she ran from the room, so fast that no one could follow her with their eyes.

The Interrogators glanced at each other uncertainly, because they hadn't actually said that Allen was innocent. But it was rather moot point, because the boy they were trying to question was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, trembling and heaving air like he was trying to remember how to breathe.

And-well, Allen sort of was. The relief was suffocating, and the disbelief was overpowering. He'd honestly expected for Nea to still be there, waiting for another chance to eat at his mind. Allen Walker was not a lucky person, nor had he ever been; happy endings happened to other people, normal people. Did-did this mean he has a future? Did this mean he was free to leave the Order, free to travel the world like he really wanted to?

What...what was he supposed to do? Where did he go from here?

And then a person knelt down in front of him, taking his pale hands in her own dark ones. It was Mara, the smart woman, the one that the others had listened to. She smiled at him very gently, and then lifted her arms slightly. It took him an embarrassingly long moment to realize that she was trying to help him up.

"Thank you." Allen whispered, and allowed himself to be pulled upright. And then, surprisingly enough, Mara backed him up until his knees knocked into his wheelchair. He sat down with the thump, still too in shock to realize what was going on.

Then she took the handles of his wheelchair, and pushed him out the door.

Allen's manners seized control of his disorganized brain functions, drawing him briefly from his stupor. "Oh no, please." He almost pleaded. "Don't worry about it, I can-"

"Allen Walker," Mara said, in the same pleasant, firm tone that made the others shrivel up and obey during questioning. It was no less effective on Allen. "I have just spent the last five days accusing a child of being a traitor. _Let me help you to your room."_

Allen subsided, and decided that he would let her.

After several seconds of awkward silence, in which the only sound was the soft squeaking of the wheels, Allen couldn't help but tentatively ask, "Does...this mean I'm not going to be locked up?"

Mara's laugh was big, booming, and completely unexpected. He nearly fell out of his chair, heart pounding, for one insane moment wondering if this had all been an elaborate joke that he didn't know the punchline for. Then she said, still chuckling, "Yes Walker, you are free."

And that, once more, gave him pause.

Because...was he free? He didn't even know what that meant.

First he had been a child of the circus, and he'd desperately wished to leave, but the chains of hunger had kept him from straying too far. And then he'd been Mana's child, but that hadn't really been freedom, because his faux-father (the Earl, what the fuck) had never let him out of his sight (he tried not to think about the reason why). And then he'd been Cross's apprentice, and hadn't that been just shy of slavery, and even when he tried to run the older man had dragged him back. After that he'd been placed under the watchful eye of the Black Order, who quickly proved that they weren't willing to let him breathe without knowing about it. And when Nea had taken him over, he'd been imprisoned in his own head, trapped in a cell and-

He let out another soundless wheeze, thoughts turning in his head again and again, trying to make sense of it all. He wanted to believe, he wanted to believe so badly, but nothing in his life had ever gone the way he'd wanted it to. Nothing had ever gone right, and why on earth should he believe the impossible?

While Allen was still deep in the throes of his upcoming panic attack, Mara distracted him by asking, "What do you think you'll do now, Walker?"

His brain screeched to an unsteady halt. Because he knew the answer to this, he'd dreamed about it during the day because at night he only knew nightmares.

With a clear voice, he said, "I want to travel all over the world and eat all the best food I can find."

For a moment there was a very stunned pause, and when Allen twisted around to look at Mara, she was staring at him, mouth hanging open. Her footsteps stuttered briefly, and for a moment Allen was afraid she'd trip over the wheelchair and knock her head on the wall.

But then-but then, even as she kept pushing the chair, she doubled over with laughter, that continued until she wheeled Allen into his hospital room. Which he was rather confused about, because he thought that gorging oneself on the best food and sights in the world was a mighty fine goal.

And then they entered his room, and all other thoughts fled from his mind.

Because waiting for him were all the European exorcists that he hadn't seen in ages, plus Link.

Miranda was laughing at Timothy and Krory, because the latter had removed his dentures and was chasing the former around with them (as Allen would learn later, the older two had all but adopted the youngest exorcist). Marie was sitting very calmly in a chair next to the bed, smoothing his fingers over a Braille book with endless patience. Link was taking up a corner aloofly, pretending that the others in the room weren't there, as he was wont to do, and Timcampy darted around his head cheerfully.

When at first his friends hadn't visited him in the hospital, Allen had been understanding. After all, after-war plans needed to be made, people needed to be visited. He'd ignored the little voice in his head that told him that they despised him for eventually giving in to Nea.

But then one week had turned to two, and hope had turned to resigned apathy. Of course they didn't want to talk to him, he hadn't fought hard enough, and then his body had been used to kill people.

But now-

"Allen!" Lenalee shouted the moment she spotted him, face lighting up for a second before fading to sheepishness. "I'm so sorry for leaving you behind, I just got so-"

She was promptly cut off by Krory dropping his dentures and shouting, "Allen!" Before leaping to his feet and running to pull his friend into a hug, lifting him from the wheelchair with the force of his affection.

Miranda and Timothy were just seconds behind him, and Allen felt each impact tip them over just a little more. Breathless, a little confused but wrapped up in a warm embrace, he was the first to realize that they were all on a one-way ticket to the ground. He had mere seconds to prepare himself before they landed, and he spared a desperate hope that he wouldn't crack a rib.

Then he was getting crushed by an over-friendly, wiggly pile of exorcists. The breath left him all at once, and to his immediate horror he realized that he couldn't expand his chest enough to get it back. He was going to die here, suffocated by his friends. _At least I'll die happy,_ he thought hysterically, _that's better than I thought I'd get._

And then, he was saved by somebody who he never could have expected.

"What the fuck is going on here?" An angry voice said, and abruptly the whole pile shook. Even though Allen couldn't see what had happened, he had a vague feeling that someone had just been kicked off of him, because the pressure on his chest lightened.

The pile shook again, and Allen could see the ceiling again. Now there was only one person on him, Krory, but he was very quickly scrambling away from Kanda's foot. The ex-general had apparently entered the room, spotted a lump of happy humans, and promptly disrupted it, because he thought hugging and happiness was disgusting. Allen was still trying to process the fact that he was alive.

A giggle escaped from his lips. Kanda stared down at him, seemingly befuddled by his very presence.

That expression was so funny that Allen couldn't help bursting into giggles, and had to slap a hand over his mouth to muffle them. When Kanda just frowned more deeply, Allen rolled over into his side, his laughter was so great.

_I'm going into hysterics_ , he realized dimly, and that's when his laughter dissolved into sobs.

"I'm alive," he gasped out, digging his palm into his good eye, feeling the wetness press into his hands. He was aware of his whole body shaking, his muscles aching with the strain, but he didn't care. The thought, _I'm alive,_ resonated through him, followed by sheer mortal terror. He hadn't planned on living. "I'm _alive._ "

"I think you broke him." Timothy said, but there was a note of hesitant concern in his voice that belied his flippant words.

"Oh Allen," Miranda sighed, and then he was pulled up with warm arms into someone's lap. He let himself be, and turned his head into her shoulder, letting out noises that sounded more like a wounded animal than human. One by one the others joined the hug, until he was crying in the center of warmth and comfort.

Later, much later, after he finally had stopped crying (and he half wondered if he had only stopped because he had no more left to give), he was settled on the hospital bed. Timothy was asleep next to him, mouth opened slightly, drool dripping down his chin. Apparently having a head wound-Timothy losing his Innocence had meant weeks of surgeries, and fretting over how they were supposed to close the massive whole in his skull-was beyond exhausting. Miranda was sleeping on his other side, because the one who had been doing all the fretting about Timothy had been her, and that was pretty exhausting too. Krory was flopped over the end of the bed, snoring quietly, because as Timothy liked to say, 'he was an old, old vampire who needed his beauty sleep'. Marie had gone back to reading his book after the excitement, and Link and Lenalee were plopped into chairs next to the bed. Kanda had decided to replace Link in the corner, looking marginally more threatening than the ex-Crow had been.

"They've been wanting to visit you for ages." Lenalee said quietly, watching as Allen gently stroked Timothy's downy hair out of his face and off the bandage on his forehead. There had been no brain damage, thank god, but the science department had spent weeks designing a plate that would fuse with the original skull. They had done it eventually (because they were good at producing impossible things), but for a long time everyone had worried about Timothy getting an infection and dying. "Central wouldn't let them, though, until they were certain that you weren't the Fourteenth." Her disgusted frown showed her opinion on that.

"I'm not mad." Allen replied, because he wasn't. He couldn't bring himself to feel anything but bone-tired weariness right now. Then he paused in his movements, but quickly restarted when Timothy let out an unhappy sound. "...why didn't you tell me?"

_Why did you let me think that these people no longer cared about me?_

But Lenalee seemed to hear the unspoken question, because she gave him a guilty, miserable grimace. "I….I kept forgetting, to be honest." She hurried to explain herself. "I barely have a day to myself anymore. Brother and I are always going places, so whenever I stopped by to visit you, it was because I only had a little time between appointments." She sighed, and for the first time Allen took in the exhausted slump in her shoulders. "It just...slipped my mind."

Allen tried to come up with a response that didn't sound too accusatory. Because she was obviously telling the truth, she obviously was working herself to the bone to try and make everything better. But he just couldn't help feeling a little bitter at her, so he settled with a neutral, "Oh."

She gave him a look that made her eyes glitter like broken, sharp amethysts. "I'm not apologizing. I'm the Heart, Allen, and I'm sorry I forgot to tell you, but I have responsibilities of my own."

He sighed quietly, once again too tired to muster the energy to feel guilty, or pursue his frustration. "Okay." He said, shrugging.

"No, Allen-" She let out a frustrated noise. "Look, what's going on?"

He stopped again, surprised. "How do you mean?"

"Why aren't...why aren't you getting angry at me?" She asked, her voice rising just a little, so it almost came out as a demand. "I made you feel like you were abandoned, and that's all you can say?"

"What do you want me to say?" He asked, confused. Did she not want to be forgiven?

"No, that's not what I-" She broke off. "Allen, you're free. No one's trying to kill you anymore, you can do whatever you want. You can have a life, now. Why aren't you happy? Why aren't you feeling _anything_?"

Allen stared at her, surfacing a little from the dazed stupor he'd been floating in ever since his earlier breakdown. He had a feeling that this was more personal than he'd thought, that there was some piece of the puzzle that he was...missing, here. His answer meant far more to her than she was letting on, and he didn't know why. "I guess...it hasn't set in yet. I just...sort of feel numb right now." He laughed without humor. "I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

Lenalee bit her lip and looked away, suddenly looking very close to the girl he'd left behind those two years ago. Then she took a deep breath. "I keep...I keep wondering if I'm doing the right thing."

Allen stared at her blankly. "What?"

"I've been trying so hard to give you all the lives you should have." She continued, her voice choked with pent-up emotion. "I just...want you all to be happy, but…" She took a shaky breath, unaware of Link, Kanda, and Marie's gazes on her. "Lavi woke up, and now he's so angry, all the time. All the people I talk to, they-they don't have any hope. They lost everything to the war, and I can't-"

_Fix that_ , Allen finished silently.

She took a shaky breath. "And now you've won, Allen, but you aren't-" She broke off, looking ashamed of herself, and miserable, and for just a moment the eighteen-year-old she was supposed to be. "You aren't...happy."

She sounded so lost and helpless in that moment that Allen's heart went out to her. Lenalee really was trying her hardest, even though he didn't always agree with the application of all her ideas. She was still a teenager, even though she'd been a soldier for the majority of her life. More than that, she was the Heart, and that responsibility had dropped like a leaden weight on her shoulders. The desire to push harder, go longer, and save everyone must have been in her mind at all times. All that work, and what did she have to show for it? A bunch of miserable, broken exorcists.

"You can't save everyone, Lenalee." Allen told her gently. "You did your best, and that's enough."

"It's not enough!" Lenalee cried, and buried her head into her hands. "It's-it's never enough. Things were supposed to get better."

Allen stared at his friend for a moment, wondering how on earth he was supposed to get through to her. He sent the others a pleading look, but they all just stared pointedly into thin air, no more sure how to help her than he was.

He thought for a moment.

And then he said,

"There once was a little boy."

There were only four people alive, other than him, who would be able to derive the true meaning of this story. One of them was missing, one was traveling in Europe, another was pissed at him right now. The last was leaning against the wall, a golden golemn swirling around his head, and he already knew all of Allen's worst secrets. He had peeled back the darkest parts of Allen's heart, seen them, and not cared in the slightest about their scarred nature.

"Everyone hated this little boy, because he was different. They beat him, and called him a monster, and told him that the scraps of clothes he wore had a thousand times more worth than his life."

They may guess that Allen knew the little boy-they might even guess that the little boy was Allen. But they wouldn't know to connect Allen to Mana, and Mana to Nea, or Mana to the Millennium Earl. He could….tell this story. Indirectly.

Lenalee peaked up at him from behind her fingers.

"But then the little boy met a man. And of course he was frightened at first, because all the boy had ever known was pain. But then the man, he-he helped the little boy. He gave him food, and he took care of him, even though the little boy was still cursed."

He was aware of the silence in the room, of the lazer-sharp gazes fixed on him. Even Link, who had been told the story before, but did not know the details, seemed interested. He felt exposed and vulnerable, as though he were using his actual name rather than none at all.

To cover his shakiness, he returned to petting Timothy's forehead.

"And it wasn't always good-sometimes the little boy went hungry. Sometimes people still beat him up. Once, the man even slapped him."

Allen took a deep breath.

"He was not the best parent, nor was he the kindest. What he did was love the boy, and taught the boy to love in return.

"He didn't save the little boy. Nothing could save him. But the boy remembered that kindness, and knew that the man had done his best to provide for him. And he remembered the lessons he had been taught about love, and was able to love people around him because of it."

He turned his grey eyes to Lenalee. "Do you love them?"

"Yes." She whispered, looking wrecked, but more hopeful than she'd been in a while.

"Are you doing your best?"

She swallowed hard, looking as though she wanted to say something else, but stopped herself, because there was only one correct answer to that question. "Every day."

Allen shrugged, and wiggled downwards so that his head was resting on the pillow. He was so tired-hysterics and emotions and memories were trying on someone who still hadn't recovered their muscle mass. "Then they're thankful. They'll remember that. You've already helped them."

Lenalee was quiet for a second, and even the others weren't speaking. Allen took this as a good sign to lower his eyelids.

He was just drifting off when he dimly heard Lenalee say, "Thank you, Allen."(7)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7\. This section was actually supposed to have a completely different ending, but I decided that Lenalee needed a character growth moment and had to completely rewrite the entire thing.


	8. Chapter 8

Predictably just when things were starting to go right, everything went horribly, horribly wrong. 

“As much as I miss General Cross,” Lenalee was saying, in that delicate way that meant she was lying through her teeth, as she poked through her lunch. “Is it really worth it to have Link away from the Order? It’d be really nice to be able to keep him here….”

Personally, Allen agreed. However, he was well aware of Cross’s connections, and though they were somewhat troublesome in that they only responded to his master, they would also be key in helping resettle the exorcists back into normal lives. Also, even though he knew that his master was alive, he was well aware of the fact that Cross had been Road’s prisoner for some of the war. He was...worried, to say the least, which was why he had insisted that Link leave as soon as possible. So Allen responded, “I think Master may be in trouble, and I want to find him before he accidentally dies, or something equally stupid.”

“Good riddance.” Kanda muttered, stabbing violently at a vegetable as though it had personally wronged him. Allen was aware that Kanda had met Cross before, and had a very low opinion of him. The fact that they were both generals, and Cross had been shirking his duties even before he’d been pretending to be dead, had pissed of Kanda like nothing else. 

Allen would’ve argued with him, except he sort of felt the same way.

“Cross has helped a lot of people,” Krory said tentatively, wincing as he spoke, as though he was expecting to get judged for his words. Allen marveled at the very strange sight of his friend with normal teeth, before shaking his head slightly. Krory would say that, because Cross had helped him, even though it had been in a rather roundabout way. 

“Do you know how often he sent his debts to the Order?” Kanda growled, and this time he stabbed his plate so hard that it broke. His cursing filled the air around them, a comfortable background noise that took seconds to peter out. “Our financial advisor used to cry whenever he thought about it.”

Allen gave him a look that let him know just how intimate he was with Cross’s habits of sending his debts to every innocent person who didn’t deserve it. Kanda let out a mutter, and buried his nose in his soba, holding the plate together with one hand so he could still eat it. 

He was warm, content, and surrounded by his friends. The only people missing were the aforementioned Link (looking for Cross), Timothy (recovering from another surgery), and Miranda (holding Timothy’s hand in case he woke up). If they weren’t all sitting around his hospital bed, it would’ve almost been like sitting in the Order’s cafeteria again. 

(And...Lavi was missing. Lavi hadn’t come to see him, not once, and Allen ignored the pang in his heart whenever he thought about it.)

Krory snorted. “I remember one of the first days I met Allen, he had a panic attack because he was remembering his Master.” The others chuckled a little at that, and Allen hid his pout behind his cup of water as he took a drink from it. 

The water tasted a bit odd, like iron, or something similar--probably the pipes hadn’t been cleaned out in a while, and were starting to rust away. Allen grimaced a little at the taste and put the cup back on the table, as Lenalee began, “I used to be so shocked whenever he started talking about those debts. Level Two Akuma? No problem. But bring up his Master’s--”

Allen woke up, and the first thing he was aware of was all-consuming pain throughout his entire body. His muscles ached, all the way down to his bones, and he had the vague feeling that if he tried to move, electric fire would course through his every pore. 

He let out a soft, unintelligible groan, because even the sheets, usually so comfortable, felt like they were rubbing acid into his skin. He wondered what sort of fight he’d been in to have caused something like this. 

“Oh, shit,” A voice said suddenly in response to Allen’s low groan, but he didn’t dare open his eye, because even the dim light flickering through his eyelid felt like sandpaper on his brain. That voice….it was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place where from. “Ah, nurse! Nurse, he’s waking up!”

There was a brief pause, an odd squeaking sound, and then the sound of clipped footsteps approaching the bed. Allen listened with an attentive ear, cursing his own weakness, because if someone chose to kill him now he’d have no chance of defending himself. 

There was more rustling, and then a woman’s voice said, “Allen Walker, are you awake?”

He didn’t want to speak. He didn’t want to move. He was in so much pain that even the thought of opening his mouth made him cringe. So he just let out another soft, muted noise from the base of his vocal chords, and hoped that got the point across.

“Ah…” The woman said, and a vague shadow covered the light piercing through his eye. “Have your painkillers run out? I’m sorry, Nurse Lara was supposed to make sure they were constant. I’ll get you some more, real quick, okay? This kind of poison is nothing to scoff at.”

Allen let out another soft noise of agreement, or perhaps deep, heart-felt gratitude; at this moment he had never loved another person more. If this nurse asked, he would get down on bended knee for her, and take her as his own wife. He was still thinking this when the painkillers kicked in, and he fell backwards into restful, painless unconsciousness. 

Well, no. Actually, his last thought, groggy and uncomprehending as it was, was _I was poisoned?_

When he woke up again, and he had a feeling that it wasn’t actually all that much later, he was thankfully in almost no pain at all. There was an undercurrent in his awareness, like his body was considering flaring to life in a colorful array of agony, but modern medicine once again prevailed over the human brain.

Allen opened his eyes.

There was a nurse next to his bed, marking something down on a clipboard as she stared very hard at his vitals. She made another note, erased, it, and then frowned again, before turning to glance at his IV--and then jumped. Clearly his shift from unconsciousness to awake had gone unnoticed until this moment. “Oh!”

He laughed a little sheepishly, embarrassed for having startled her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you, miss.”

She looked flustered, shifting the clipboard from hand to hand, looking uncertain as to what she should be doing at the moment. Allen wondered what had gotten her so nervous, and had the gloomy thought that maybe it was because she didn’t want to treat a Noah. But then, she let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, and relaxed ever so slightly. “No, the fault’s all mine. I’m sorry if I seem a little skittish, it’s just….”

Allen leaned in curiously, making sure to keep his face open and inviting.

“You’re a bit famous here, is all.” And now she looked even more embarrassed, but Allen was too busy trying to parse through the meaning of that sentence to care.

“H-Huh?” He asked, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. A bit famous? What did that even mean? Where was here?

“The Head Nurse likes to tell stories about all your injuries.” The nurse said, and a mortifying look was coming over her face, as though she was perfectly aware that she was digging herself into a deeper and deeper hole. “She uses it to frighten all the new recruits, and well--it’s all a bit exciting, isn’t it? A lot of the medical techniques that were developed here were made to save your life.”

Allen’s eye got bigger and bigger as she spoke, until his eyebrows had climbed up into his hair and his face felt physically strained from how incredulous his expression was. He had known that he was famous among exorcist circles, certainly, but all the nurses knew his name because he got injured all the time? He supposed he should feel grateful that for once someone knew him for another reason than his Noah, but he was too shocked to consider that at the moment.

Then he remembered his manners, and the poor girl was giving him an uncertain, wary look which meant she thought she had offended him. He took a deep breath, but when he spoke, he knew his answer was probably….less than reassuring. “Thank you?” 

The silence that followed was beyond awkward. 

“I’ll….” The nurse said eventually, backing away. “I’ll just...get Komui.”

“Please do.” Allen responded, relieved that she had given him an out--but really, he had not seen that coming. He knew that he got injured a lot, but did the Head Nurse really scare the newest recruits with horror stories of his worst wounds?

He suddenly recalled getting part of his heart ripped out, and winced. Okay, maybe it was somewhat believable. 

Komui came back several minutes later sans nurse, a folder tucked under one arm, his eyes tired but alert from underneath his glasses. He sent Allen a wan smile as he pulled up the chair to the bed, but there was a sort of odd tenseness about him, like he was preparing to jump and duck for cover at any moment. Allen shifted nervously, that same tension building in his bones like a mutated form of osmosis. 

There was something going on here, that Allen was going to finally learn about. He didn’t know what it was, not for sure, but right here, right now, that odd way all the exorcists had been acting was going to be explained. The way they hadn’t let anyone inside his hospital room except for the ones they trusted; the way they glanced down every hall when they were traveling with him, like they expected an attack. The way they laughed off questions about the world state, and very quickly conversed with each other when they thought he wasn’t listening. 

Oh yes, he had noticed. It was almost impossible not to--but he’d been patient, and he’d waited, because he trusted them. He trusted them to handle the situation.

But obviously, that situation had gotten out of their control a little bit--he’d been poisoned in front of all his friends, in his hospital room in the center of the Black Order’s Headquarters. Komui and the others had been arrogant, thinking that their presence would protect him forever, but that was obviously a lie. 

“Komui.” Allen said, relieved that someone was finally going to tell him what was going on. “What happened?”

Komui looked away and adjusted his glasses, a subconscious, nervous gesture that did much to reveal his state of mind. He looked rattled, and unhappy; clearly the thought of one of his exorcists getting attacked in their own Headquarters was as unsettling to him as it was to Allen. “You were poisoned, of course. You’re actually very lucky. You should’ve been dead within minutes.”

“I’ve heard that one before.” Allen responded dryly, referring to the time when he’d gotten his heart partially eaten.

Komui looked as though he was uncertain as to whether or not he should appreciate the gallows humor, but in the end just politely sidestepped it. “It was your Innocence, actually. The poison was designed to stop your heart almost instantly, but...”

“The Innocence in my heart kept it beating?” He asked, a little uncertainly, because that was not something he had expected. Then a sudden chill crept through him, bringing along the thought-- _if my Innocence kept my heart beating, does that mean it won’t let me die?_

The thought was almost enough to send him into another panic attack. He barely managed to shake it off, and continued on with, “Do we know who did it?”

And now, Komui looked very uncomfortable--he was grimacing slightly, and his eyes had darkened to some nameless emotion. It looked remarkably like anger. “The poison was one the Science Department had developed. We had been planning to use it against the Noah, but then the war ended. We deemed it too dangerous to keep around, and it was scheduled for disposal tomorrow, actually.”

Ah. That would explain the blatant anger. 

“So it was someone who knew the Order intimately.” He said quietly. “And someone who wanted me dead for being a Noah.” Not entirely unexpected--this was not the first assassination attempt, after all--but it was a little alarming that this one had nearly turned out successful. If not for his Innocence…

He was distracted out of his musings by Komui taking a deep breath, and moving the enormous folder from under his arm to his lap.

“Allen, before I show you this, I just want to apologize.” Komui said, carefully placing the weighty file onto Allen’s lap. “Lenalee and I agreed to handle the situation without getting you involved, and that...well, that backfired on us, a little. You deserve to know why you were poisoned.”

Allen stared at Komui for a second, pleased that his suspicions of something more were confirmed but bewildered by the grim tone. He looked down at the folder, shuffled it a little closer with his good hand, and then opened it up to read. 

He got through the first page, and his face paled. 

He briefly skimmed the second one, because it was relatively the same as the first, and his eyes got really big. 

Then he took a deep breath, panic rising in his throat like bile, and turned to Komui. “Why--” He licked his dry lips. “Why does the North and South American headquarters have a ‘kill upon sight’ order against me?”

Komui frowned, and gestured for him to keep looking. 

Allen did so. Africa had a ‘capture on sight’ order, although there was the addendum that if he resisted, they were to kill him. The Asian branch had the same type of order, and Allen glanced sharply at Komui, because he’d been under the impression that Bak--

“There’s a bit of an upheaval going on in the Asian Headquarters.” Komui said, wincing. “Those are the official orders of Bak’s competitor, Bao Lei. She...isn’t actually in control yet, but all her followers take her orders as the word of God.”

Allen shuddered a little, and continued flipping through the papers. There was a lot of boring stuff, and a lot of not boring stuff; newspapers articles detailing riots in the streets, calling for his release or incarceration. Reports on assassination attempts against Allen that even he hadn’t known about, which had apparently been stopped at the door. A copy of an official order…

“You mean--”

“You technically had immunity granted to you by the Heart.” Komui said, grimacing as though he had a bad taste in his mouth. Allen sympathized. “But if all but one of the other Branch Heads signed, then the Heart’s will could technically be overruled. That’s why that questioning was so important for us to win--if we hadn’t, then you would’ve been turned over to one of the other Branches. And I honestly have no idea what they would’ve planned to do with you from that point.”

Allen stared at the folder in his hands like he was holding a bomb, feeling a confusing swirl of emotions in his insides. He’d--he’d thought earlier, that he was tired of people he didn’t know trying to kill him all the time, but this was on a scale he definitely hadn’t anticipated. 

“The Brass was pushing for it especially.” Komui said, rubbing his hands across his face. “After all, Levierre had gotten executed for war crimes. It was only a matter of time before Lenalee tried going after the Brass themselves. By focusing on villainizing you, they were effectively taking the pressure off themselves. I’m honestly glad that Link left when he did--his involvement was a risk as it was.”

Allen glanced up sharply. “How do you mean?”

“Levierre was executed for war crimes several months ago.” Komui said, and there was just a hint of vicious triumph in his voice before it dimmed to distant regret. “Link was... _is_ seen as Levierre’s most loyal pet. How do you think it looked, to have the loyal dog of an executed man throw in his lot with a boy who is known to be an ex-Noah?”

He hadn’t even considered that, that Link’s presence might be more detrimental than helpful to him. But it made sense, of course it made sense--how must it look, to other people, when an ex-Crow and the right hand of Levierre supported someone? But he hadn’t considered a lot of things, because he hadn’t been given the information necessary to understand the situation as a whole. 

And Allen honestly did not know how to respond to this. Indignation, at having finally been proven innocent and still be painted as the enemy anyway? Guilt, because he had failed the rest of the world by losing to the Noah, causing them to fear what could happen? Pain, because these people were strangers, they wanted him dead for no other reason than he had been an unwilling host to a Noah?

Instead he asked the only easy question he could think of. “How could you hide this from me?”

Komui had the decency to look guilty. “None of us thought it would get this out of hand. Bak and I had been trying to handle this quietly, but then Lei started using the Fourteenth as a springboard for her own rise to power….” He sighed, and fiddled with his hands. “Before we all knew it, there were people fighting in the streets, and the other Branch Heads were going around us to get at you.”

Allen put his head in his hand and breathed for a second, trying to squash his panic, trying to control the hysteria at those words. He couldn’t--he couldn’t deal with this right now, not after he had just been freed, not when he’d just started thinking that maybe a future was possible. He looked up again a second later, to Komui’s sad, tired face, and said in a desperate tone, “So what are you planning on doing about it?”

That seemed to put Komui on firmer ground; after all, emotions were not his forte, but coming up with plans were. He reached over and gently flipped through the folder on Allen’s lap, until they came to the very back. He pulled out a map of Germany, and several pictures of some very beautiful but small houses. “We’re sending you and the other exorcists into hiding.”

Then he paused, and sent Allen another wan smile. “I don’t think anything could happen, but the others have been very vocal in their support for you. I really hope that no one would try to hurt them, but just to be safe…

“I’m sending Miranda, Krory and Timothy to somewhere in Sweden--and I’m sorry, I wish I could share where, but it’ll be much safer for them if I don’t. Marie has a sister living in China who’s willing to take care of him, so that’s where he’s going. Lenalee is staying here with me, because she is the Heart, and I can protect her better than anyone else can.” Allen privately thought that it was the other way around, but he wasn’t about to say so. “And finally you, Lavi and Kanda will be staying here,” Komui tapped the map. “In Germany.”

Allen did a double take, his panic and fear immediately morphing into disbelief. “I’m sorry, I think I misheard you. If you don’t recall, Lavi kind of hates me right now.”

What he did not say was that he also kind of hated Lavi too, at the moment anyway. He knew how hard this all must be for the Bookman Jr., and he was trying to be understanding of that, but Lavi had crossed a line. He had crossed a line that should never have been touched, not even under the most dire of circumstances. There were certain things that Allen was not willing to forgive so readily, and going anywhere near Mana and his relationship to Allen was one of them. He was allowed to worry about it, fret about it, cry about it, but no one else was allowed to touch the man who’d saved his life as a child. 

Maybe he was selfish for thinking that way. Maybe he should just accept that Mana was the Millennium Earl, and that any love the other man had had for him was false. But he couldn’t bare to. He would love Mana, or the idea of Mana, for as long as he cared to. 

“Lavi doesn’t hate you, Allen.” Komui said, with a hint of impatience. “He’s just...confused. And hurt. You need to forgive him--whatever he said in that argument, whatever passed, surely couldn’t have been that bad.”

At that, Allen rose up with indignant anger, single eye flashing with frustration. “Don’t presume to know what he said to me.” Allen hissed, baring his teeth like a cat. “Do _not_ presume that his words meant so little.”

Komui leaned backwards, a regretful grimace on his face, his hands raised up in surrender. “I suppose I deserved that.” He said. “Sorry. But Kanda is the strongest person we have at the moment, and you really need his protection. And Lavi also needs to be taken care of--as much as he hates it, he is essentially going to be reliant on another person for the next six or seven months.”

Allen floundered for another excuse to not have to live with Kanda and Lavi. He knew that he was being stubborn, he _knew_ that he should just back down, but he simply didn't trust the other two exorcists. Lavi knew too much about him and had too little restraint to be trusted with the knowledge; Kanda just plain despised him. “Nightmares.” He blurted out. “I have--nightmares. I’ll keep them up at night. Why don’t you just let me...travel in Europe by myself? I know how to keep hidden. I’ll find Link, help him search for Cross--”

Komui leaned forwards, and caught Allen’s eye with his own; a wall settled in front of his emotions, blocking off all traces of understanding and friendlessness. All that was left was a cold, hard commander, who would not be receiving anything other than a resounding ‘yes’ from Allen. “You’re being childish.” The other man said slowly. “We want you where we can keep track of you, and that would be impossible if you were constantly traveling. Stop throwing a fit because you can’t forgive your friend.”

Allen gritted his teeth, hating himself for the twinge of guilt in his stomach. He would not feel guilty for not wanting to live with people who didn’t care about him. He wanted to keep protesting, to keep pushing his case until Komui finally caved--but he wouldn’t win this, not today. So instead he lowered his head, and said, “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Komui said, and collected the scattered papers from Allen’s lap and putting them back in the folder. “We’ll be packing your stuff for you, so don’t worry about that. You leave at 0900 hours tomorrow, so make sure you get some sleep.”

Allen didn’t respond. 

Before Komui was fully out the door, he paused, his hand resting on the doorframe. “And Allen…” He said, voice softening, shoulders slumped with the weight of the world. “I’m sorry.”

And then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE ORIGINAL ENDING FOR CHAPTER SEVEN WAS THIS BY THE WAY  
> you know it's really interesting to see what kind of response you get on fanfiction and on archive  
> Because i did some CD for lenalee and everyone on Archive was like YAAAAS  
> but on fanfiction everyone was like NOOOOOO  
> so it's fascinating


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, at nine o’clock precisely, Allen met the others down by the train station, his pack resting on his lap. Kanda looked as surly as ever, but Lenalee, Krory, Miranda, Timothy and Marie all were giving him somewhat drowsy, somewhat vacant expressions that he usually associated with sleep deprivation. As he approached, though, their faces cleared a little, eyes brightening with forced energy.

Krory and Miranda came in for a hug, and Timothy wriggled under his faux-parents arms to wrap around Allen’s waist like a limpet. 

(He could count on one hand how many times he’d been hugged like this, almost cuddled, and they had all happened during his time as an exorcist. He wasn’t sure what that said about him.)

“Please be safe,” Miranda said tearily, looking as though she were going to dissolve into waterworks at any second. “Call often.”

Krory looked equally distraught, his nose dripping like a faucet. Allen subtly grimaced at the stain growing on his shirt, but didn’t say anything, because that’s not what you did when friends were crying on your shoulder. “Let’s meet up again sometime soon!”

Allen gave them all a small, genuine smile, retreating ever so slightly so he could look at them all individually. “I look forward to it.” He told them, and then opened his mouth to say something else, something sufficiently sappy that would make the two older ones cry even harder. But then Timothy gave him a sour look, slapped his hand his hand into Allen's chest, and took off running back inside the Order, interrupting Allen before he could even begin to talk. 

_"Timothy!"_ Miranda wailed, hands grabbing at her long, tangled hair in distress. "Why would you do such a thiiiing!" And then she took off behind the little boy, shrieking for him to stop running, he might _tear_ his stitches. Krory let out a distressed sound, waved slightly at Allen, and then leaped into action, using his Innocence to boost his speed as he tore off after the couple. Allen stared after them bemusedly, wondering at the strangeness of his friends, before noticing that something was on the ground in front of him. 

_Oh,_ he thought as he reach down to pick the thin slip of paper up. _Timothy must have given me something when he slapped me._

When he looked at what it was, he could only stare at it, stunned. 

It was a small picture, one that he hadn’t even known existed; it was from almost two years ago, clearly during dinner time, judging from the darkness outside the windows. They were all eating their food, and the Allen in the picture was cheerfully reaching for something off of Kanda’s plate, while the samurai lifted his sword over his head to deliver a swift retribution. Lavi was grinning at Lenalee, who was laughing because the Bookman Jr. had a talent for saying funny but stupid things. Krory was noogying Timothy, who was half crying, half screaming for help, while Miranda’s head was jammed into the table, a look of pure helpless misery on her face. Marie and Link were sitting next to each other, wearing twin looks of deadpan unamusement. 

Allen stared at it for a second, wondering where on earth Timothy could’ve gotten such a thing--he certainly didn’t remember it being taken. They all looked so happy, as though nothing was wrong with the world, when in fact everything was crashing around their heads. 

He wondered if they could ever go back to such a time, but he highly doubted it. 

He swiped at his eyes, blinking back tears, and then flipped the picture over, so see if there was an exact date on the back. When he did so, he couldn’t help but choke on a laugh, because the little brat had written, “I hate goodbyes. Come see us soon, okay?”

Shaking his head and smiling with bemusement, he stuffed the photograph into his pocket. 

Next was Marie, who gave Allen a small, friendly smile as he approached. “Noise Marie.” Allen said warmly, gently reaching out so he could shake the older man’s hand. They still didn’t know each other very well--just because Allen had been carried around a bit by Marie didn’t mean that they had talked, necessarily--but he was grateful. “Thank you for everything.”

To Allen’s deep surprise, Marie took his hand, and then dragged Allen in for a gentle but firm hug. He was big and warm, soft in the way that hugging something like a grizzly bear would be; there was a certain tension in his muscles that spoke of hidden strength. The younger exorcist had a feeling that Marie could easily lift him up and crack his ribs like toothpicks, if he so chose. 

Then Marie drew back, and his sightless gaze was fond and sorrowful at the same time. “Allen Walker, I owe you an apology.”

Allen stared up at the older man, furrowing his eyebrows in abject confusion, and then remembering at the last second that Marie wouldn’t be able to understand the non-visual cues. A little flustered, he said, “Whatever for?”

“When you first woke up, I...I have to admit, I was very...suspicious of you.” Marie grimaced slightly. “While the other exorcists believed in you unwavering, I...I did not exactly denounce you, but nor did I show you any support.”

Allen stared at him for a moment, still a little bewildered, before realizing that Marie was apologizing for not being certain whether or not he was the enemy. There was a certain novelty about the whole thing that Allen could hardly believe, because it wasn’t like any suspicions were unfounded. As much as he mentally railed against the mistrust, it wasn’t like he was going to argue with them; after all, he had been the thing they despised the most. Marie certainly didn’t need to apologize for having doubts.

“Please don’t worry about it.” Allen said gently, and reached out to squeeze Marie’s hand, because the other man couldn’t see the reassurance on his face. “I understand if you’re suspicious of me. I was a Noah, after all.”

Marie frowned a little, looking almost...helpless? “And then you go and say stuff like that.” The taller man muttered, and Allen frowned at him, uncertain as to whether or not he was supposed to have heard that. Then louder, “Yes, you were a Noah. But I lost sight of the fact that you were also Allen.”

Allen and Marie had never been all that close. They had often been assigned to different missions, and even when they were on the same one, they were hardly chatty people. The two of them hardly knew each other, and probably would never get to know each other very well; after all, Marie would be living in China. 

That being said, those words that Marie uttered--the ones saying that he was Allen, too, not just the Fourteenth--they meant more than anything else he’d ever heard. Because no one had ever really acknowledged that before, not out loud, anyway; they’d just assumed that he knew the difference. He could never admit to them his insecurities, that he sometimes wondered if he and Neah were more similar than they could’ve ever known.

So that was why when Allen said, “Thank you Marie,” his voice was just this shy of choked, and he had to blink back yet more tears. 

Then, to his shock, Marie carefully reached forwards, and enveloped Allen in another grizzly bear hug. He had to lean over to do it properly, but still did it, and Allen tentatively curled his fingers around the other man’s shoulder. “I will support you from this point on, Allen Walker make no mistake. If you ever have need of me, just call.”

Allen sniffled a little and nodded, before drawing away. “Thank you again, Marie. You’ve been more of a help than you could ever know.”

The other man just smiled in that mysterious, distant way of his, before allowing himself to get helped back into the Order by a finder. The only people left were Komui, Lenalee, and Kanda, although Lavi was supposed to have been there by now. Allen frowned at the Order’s exit, wondering if the red-head was throwing a silent fit about having to share a house with him. The thought made something pang in his chest (because despite how he still hadn’t forgiven Lavi, he would be much more willing, if the idiot would just apologize), and he wondered if the thought of sharing a house with him was so unpalatable. 

Komui was also frowning at the exit, and eventually it seemed as though his patience found its end, because he asked, a little grumpily, “Kanda, would you do me a favor and go fetch Lavi?” Then there was some muttering under his breath, about stubborn Bookman and idiots who couldn’t talk to each other.

Allen ignored that one. 

But before Kanda could even take a step, his face just this shy of wrathful vengeance, Lavi rolled out onto the platform. He looked tired, deep bags underneath his bright green eye, and his clothes were rumpled and unkempt. There was a sallowness to Lavi’s pale, paper-thin skin, which hadn't been so pronounced the few times Allen had visited visited. Allen's lips turned downwards at the corners, concern warring with the simmering anger he still harbored. 

“Sorry,” The Bookman Jr. said, wincing a little and clutching his pack closer to his chest. “I didn’t mean to be late.”

And that was pretty odd too--Lavi didn’t do repentant, or even polite very well. Allen would’ve written it off as simple exhaustion from having to travel the entirety of the Order in a wheelchair, but there was something...else. Something a little fragile about him, like if someone touched him he would break into a million little pieces. . 

“Are you okay?” Komui asked, frowning, concern bleeding through the vague annoyance on his face. “You look…” He trailed off a little, looking uncertain how to finish his sentence. 

Lavi wavered ever so slightly, and that more than anything else showed the unbalanced state of his mind. But then he frowned, shook his head, and said in a voice that was as emotionless as it was quiet, “I’m fine. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Then he glanced over at Allen, and something in his eye cracked even further, just the barest hints of something--was that guilt, or anger, or regret? For a moment Allen thought that this would be the moment when his friend finally apologized, when they could just try to break some of the tension between them. Allen would be willing to compromise, if Lavi was also willing to make the effort. 

But then Lavi’s face hardened, and he looked away. Kanda immediately started cursing, Komui looked to the sky as though searching for strength, and Allen just sighed. This was going to be a very long train ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is wondering why my updates have slowed down: I have school. Enough said. 
> 
> Also, sorry this is kind of short. It's supposed to be a filler.


	10. Chapter 10

The town, when they arrived, was tiny, quaint, and stuck smack dab in the middle of nowhere. Verdant hills surrounded them on all sides, encasing them in a sea of lush grass and wildflowers. A tiny, picturesque river burbled cheerfully around the very edges of the town, and nimble fish leapt over the gleaming rocks like dollops of quicksilver. There was a peaceful silence about the air, a lazy sort of feeling that the atmosphere exuded, that made you want to flop under one of the trees and take a long nap.

And the people were just about the same; they were the traditional, kindly sort, who had never known disaster and likely never would. They wore traditional clothes and sang traditional songs, danced olden steps around a campfire with glee. Their women were either beautiful and demure or homely but tough, and their men alternated between farm boy innocence and jolly, self-confident wisdom. 

Photographers would come to this place and declare it perfect in every way; they would rush to take pictures of the golden fields of wheat, and the dusty farmers who worked there. The would exclaim over the adorable children, who had dirt smeared perpetually on their joyous faces and a kind word for anyone who came near. And then the photographers would pack their bags and leave as swiftly as they possibly could, because there was never such a boring town in existence as this one. 

Allen, Kanda, and Lavi all stared in horror at the little place, where the people were examining them with curious but welcoming eyes. They took in the dirt roads, and the cattle roaming around, the stores and the market, and the way that everyone greeted each other. Because they all knew each other, of course they did; there were no secrets in this town.

“Not even a bar.” Allen whispered in horror, feeling something like hysterical panic building in his gut. 

Kanda would’ve made fun of him, except he was feeling much the same. He looked around at the sleepy little village, barely advanced enough to be out of the Dark Ages, and said, “No fucking way.”

Lavi didn’t say anything at all, but the way he was staring morosely out at the tacky fountain in the center of the square said everything.

“Have you ever considered the fact that Komui actually hates us?” Allen wondered out loud. “A lot of his decisions seem to be very painful for everybody except him.” 

The other two actually grunted in agreement with that statement, which just went to show how dire the situation was if those two were agreeing about anything. Allen was just about to turn his wheelchair right back around and get on the next train, damn the consequences, when they were waved at by one of the women in traditional clothing.

“Did that lady just wave at us?” Kanda growled in the back of his throat, which was...oddly civil, considering who was speaking. In Allen’s experience, the samurai was more likely to stab first and ask questions later. 

“Mr. Exorcists!” The woman called as she started heading their way. “Oh Mr. Exorcists!”

The three of them did a simultaneous body flinch, which was a new and unusual experience that Allen was not looking forwards to repeating. Being in a simultaneous anything with Kanda sounded like a disaster waiting to happen.

“Is--Is this location not supposed to be a secret?” Lavi said, putting his head into his hands.

The woman reached them, beaming as though they were the best presents she’d ever been given. She was a very slim, beautiful blonde woman wearing a long, powder blue dress and a pair of smart, black boots. There were laugh lines around her mouth and her eyes, and her smile showed off a row of straight, very white teeth. 

And there was something about the way she walked that immediately set Allen on edge, though he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.

“Hello you three, my name is Mirium, and I’ll be your liaison to the Black Order! I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. We’ll have you settled in as soon as possible!” The woman chirped. Kanda’s face made him look as though he were dying inside. 

Then, without any warning, the woman pulled a camera from nowhere and snapped a picture of their faces. 

“Oooh, Komui was right.” The woman said, looking down at the camera with delight. “That is a bit funny.”

“What the hell?” Kanda growled, and he curled his thumb under the hilt of his sword, drawing it ever so slightly from the sheath at his waist. There was a vein popping in his temple, and he looked about ready to cut the woman in two in broad daylight. Allen shifted nervously, because by now the townspeople were openly staring and whispering amongst themselves. If Kanda decided to get violent, there was no way to do damage control, not with all these witnesses.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The woman said, and suddenly her grin devolved into a downright evil smirk. “I didn’t make a proper introduction, did I? My name is Mirium Lee.”

There was a brief stunned silence, the kind that happens when several people have realized just how badly they’ve been played. Allen kind of wanted to start clapping, because this woman had just pulled a con that Master would’ve been proud of. 

And then he realized that there was no possible way this woman was related to Komui and Lenalee, considering the two siblings were Chinese, and this woman was quite obviously European. French, judging by the slight accent in her voice. Who did she think she was trying to fool?

“Listen miss,” Allen said, in his most polite tone. “I have to ask, but how can you possibly be related to Komui if he is Chinese, and you are quite obviously not?”

Mirium glanced at him, a clever little smile curling the corners of her mouth. “Oh, Komui warned me about you, Allen Walker. You certainly don’t fail to meet expectations.” While he was still puzzling over that statement, wondering what Komui could’ve possibly said about him, the woman continued. “I’ve forgotten the proper word for it, but my aunt married Komui’s uncle. So we are perhaps not related by blood, but simply by family relation.”

“Oh.” Allen said, mollified. 

“You were Crow.” Lavi said suddenly, and both Kanda and Allen glanced over at him sharply, staring at the teen. Lavi had a laser-focused gaze on Mirium, his green eye narrowed as thoughts flew through that incredible brain of his. “I didn’t recognize it before, but…”

“Clever little boy, aren’t you.” Mirium practically purred, and that’s when Allen realized where he’d seen that walk before--Link. Link walked like that, with the subtle grace of a killer, and the confidence that he was able to defend himself no matter what the threat. “Yes, Komui decided he needed eyes in Levierre’s inner circle and asked me to join. I agreed, of course.”

There was more of a story to this, Allen was certain; after all, Mirium did not seem like the kind of person who would get involved in the war for a favor. She was too obviously intelligent for that, and in just this meeting she was already showing signs of decent self-preservation instincts. Allen knew the type; usually only the foolish or the self-sacrificing joined the Order, and this woman’s personality was neither.

Kanda was now giving Mirium a wary, mistrustful look, and his thumb had not moved from it’s position on his sword. “I don’t trust Crow. Any of them.” 

“I don’t really care.” Mirium shrugged. “But you’re going to have to try, if you actually want to go to where you’re living.”

“What?” Allen asked, speaking for all three of them. 

“You didn’t think that Komui would actually send you to live in this boring hicktown, right?” The woman said, amusement glittering in her eyes. “There’s a leak in the Order, boys. You got off the train here, because this is where our _mole_ thinks you'll be living. We've actually still got a bit of a journey left, by carriage.”

The three of them glanced at each other. 

Kanda flicked his thumb a little, and the sword hopped just a bit in his grip. _I can always kill her._

Allen frowned a little, shrugging his bad shoulder in helplessness, when Lavi startled them both by interrupting with a very subtle, but understandable hand signal. _Wait._

Then he shifted in his wheelchair, and gave Mirium a polite, but slightly strained smile. For the barest second, Allen watched as Lavi emerged from the cocoon of misery he'd been entrenched in for the past few days. His eyes glimmered with sharp, laser focus, and his fingers barely brushed his cheek, an instinctively aggressive posture. "Listen, Miss Lee." He said, saccharine and venomous all at once. "I hate to tell you this, but we're going to need a bit more to go on than your _word._ " He tilted his head sideways. "After all, my friend here?" He gestured towards Kanda, "Has a very big sword."

Mirium stared at the redhead for a second, her big blue eyes wide with surprise. It seemed like maybe she'd just been expecting them to go along with it, and not argue with her. But then she threw back her head and laughed, a full-bellied laugh that carried, that made the startled townspeople stare and shift uneasily. "Lavi Bookman." She breathed, smiling at their wheelchair bound friend. "Let me tell you a little secret." 

Then she leaned over, and whispered something into the Bookman Junior's ear. 

(To this day, Allen doesn't know what she said. All he knows is that Lavi turned a odd, sour-milk white, and went along with her without asking anymore questions.)

\----------------------------------------------------------

 

It turned out that Mirium actually was telling the truth, regarding their housing situation, anyway. And it also turned out that the three exorcists decided to hate Komui a little less than they were originally planning on, simply because the scientist had really pulled through for them, in regards to location. 

They had left the sleepy little village in a horse-drawn carriage (seating arrangements had been a bit awkward, because Allen was silently refusing to sit next to Lavi, and Kanda looked as though he wanted to murder the two of them rather than sit next to them. Eventually they had decided to put Allen next to Miriam in the front, and forced Kanda and Lavi to sit together in the back). The townsfolk watched with curious, polite interest as they left, and once again the three exorcists were very thankful that they wouldn't have to stay in this sleepy little town. There was no wariness here, no drive for more; the people had not investigated the exorcists despite their odd apparel, and likely in a week or so the gossip would fade. That sort of complacency was mind boggling and quite frankly a little insane.

Their actual new home was an apartment in an industrialized suburb of Berlin. They were on the third floor of a little complex a block away from a library, and three blocks away from a saloon. If one were to go any farther south, the factories and smog would dissolve into farmland. Any further north, and one would find themselves in the hustle and bustle of the capital of Germany. In short, the location was easy to escape from, easy to defend, and was positioned with their interests in mind.

“Now remember,” Mirium said, smiling a lovely, shark-toothed grin at the three of them. “If you need help, don’t call Komui, call me first. I’ll pass the message along. It’ll be harder for people to pinpoint your position that way, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.” Allen responded, since the other two had descended into moody, brooding silences. 

“Excellent!” She crowed, clapping her hands together. “Then there shouldn’t be any problems. Here are your house keys.” She dropped the keychain into Allen’s hands, patted Lavi (who jumped, startled) and Kanda (who snapped at her fingers like a rabid dog) on the head, and stepped back into the carriage. “I’ll be seeing you boys soon!” 

Allen waved at her retreating back, still a little bemused by the whole situation. Kanda let out a disgusted noise, but Lavi just faded back into the dull, silent stupor he’d been in moments before. 

Then, the three of them turned to face their new home.

“This isn’t so bad.” Allen said thoughtfully as he stared up at the building, brushing his hair out of his face. He jumped a little as his suitcase was plonked onto the ground next to him, courtesy of one grumpy swordsman. 

“You say that now.” Kanda growled, resting one hand on the back of Allen’s chair. He was far more twitchy than he’d been in the Black Order, possibly because he was in unfamiliar territory and was the only one of his companions capable of defending himself. This had brought out an odd, instinctive protectiveness in the swordsman, which very likely began during his time as a general. He hadn’t let either of his two wheelchair bound charges out of his sight. “What floor did did that woman say we were on?”

Allen frowned slightly and opened his mouth to chide Kanda, because no matter how strange a person was, you couldn't call them ‘that woman’. Then the question caught up with him, and he glanced very sharply at the five story building in front of them. He closed his eyes, already seeing the problem. 

Lavi rolled to a halt next to the two of them, his face a study in dread, his bag clutched tightly in his lap. He’d slept the entire way to Berlin, which had done nothing to decrease the bags beneath his eyes, so deep they looked like bruises. Allen hoped that being outside of the Order and in a big city would help him. “We’re on the fourth floor.” The Bookman Jr. said. 

All three of them stared at the wheelchairs. There was no question that Lavi would not be able to climb the stairs under his own power, and Allen was a shaky maybe. He could take two flights of stairs if he rested on the landings--but four? 

Kanda sighed, expression exasperated but resigned to his fate as pack mule. He glanced at the only suitcase they’d taken (none of them actually had many personal items--fighting in a war had meant that basically everything was impermanent), obviously thinking very hard about what they were going to do. Then he looked at Allen, and ordered in an imperious voice, “Follow us with the suitcase as far as you can.”

“Huh?” Allen asked, confused. Us?

“What?” Lavi echoed, looking equally bewildered. He looked significantly less bewildered when Kanda physically scooped him from his chair and threw him over his shoulder. In fact, the red-head let out a loud, ear-piercing squeak, dropping his bag to the ground in favor of beating his fists on Kanda’s back. “Put me down!” He wailed, though he very quickly lost momentum as the strength drained out of him. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Kanda muttered, and then glared at Allen, who was watching the spectacle with wide, disbelieving eyes. He was also trying very, very hard not to laugh. “You stop fucking laughing,you little brat.”

Allen raised his hands up in a gesture of surrender, not quite able to control the wide grin that was breaking across his face. “I haven’t said anything.”

Kanda shot him another suspicious look, but seemed unwilling to pursue, especially since Lavi was still slapping weakly against the swordsman’s back. He was wheezing from exertion and seemed no stronger than a kitten, but he was doggedly doing it all the same. Allen had to admire his tenacity, if nothing else.

Allen got up from the chair and looked down at the suitcase next to him, frowning at its size. It wasn’t enormous, thank goodness, but it was certainly...dense. It would be difficult to get up one flight of stairs with it, let alone four. But Kanda had asked him to, so he would have to try. 

He collapsed his wheelchair and slung it over his shoulder (thank god for the science department), then took the handle for the suitcase and dragged it through the door of the apartment. He made it as far as the stairs before he had to stop for a short break, breath coming a little faster than it had before. 

Those steps suddenly looked very daunting. Like climbing up the mountain to get to the Order again. 

Allen took a steadying breath, and then began to ascend. 

He got as far as the first floor before he collapsed in a shuddering, shaking pile on the floor, his hair splayed out around his head like a picture in a murder scene. “Bloody fucking fuck,” He muttered under his breath, his childhood accent crawling through his words as his mind struggled to keep him functioning. “I fuckin’ hate stairs.”

The silence that followed that statement was far too….poignant, for lack of a better word. Allen heaved another sigh, and shook his hair out of his face, looking up in quiet resignation at Kanda’s face. The swordsman was staring at him as though he’d never seen something so pathetic and confusing in his entire life. Which wasn’t actually all that big of a change than usual, considering that’s what Kanda always thought of him. 

“You made it one flight.” The taller man said finally. 

Allen thought about that for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to respond. Then he decided not to respond to that at all, and instead lifted his shaking arm up in a pleading gesture. “Carry me, please. I can’t do another floor.”

Kanda’s face twisted a little, face darkening into a deep scowl, making it clear how much he would not like to carry Allen up the stairs. That is to say, he looked like he would rather eat poison than get within reaching distance of the younger ex-exorcist. However there was also knowledge warring with that disgust, the knowledge that Allen would actually not be able to make it up any more flights without assistance. 

“I fucking hate you.” Kanda muttered, taking Allen’s arm and bodily lifting him from the floor, as though he weighed no more than a kitten. There was a moment of vertigo as the younger boy was unceremoniously swung over one shoulder, but then he found himself face-to-face with Kanda’s dark shirt. 

The climb to the fourth floor was thankfully short, and when the two of them reached the top, they silently agreed never to talk about it, ever again. They had a reputation as bitter rivals to maintain, after all. 

Really, that first introduction with their living space should have been an indication of what was to come. 

The apartment was nice enough, for it’s price; there was a living area attached to a kitchinette, which had all the basic equipment for cooking. The small table in the room was barely large enough for three people to eat on, but that was all they needed anyway. They were such a suspicious lot that they would likely never invite someone over for dinner. Finally there was a single bathroom, and two small bedrooms besides. 

Although it wasn’t very fancy, it was practically a mansion to the three ex-exorcists who had only ever had a single room to themselves. 

“The couch is mine.” Kanda muttered, throwing his pack onto the sofa and flopping after it, sprawling out across the dark brown fabric. He quickly rolled onto his side facing the cushions, a clear indication that he wanted to be left alone, immediately. Too much interaction with the rest of civilization, Allen mused with a sigh. 

He absentmindedly opened his mouth to ask Lavi which room he wanted, when his words were cut off by a loud slam that echoed throughout the room, causing Kanda’s shoulders to tense slightly. Allen turned, incredulous-- _Lavi hadn’t actually just walked into a room and slammed the door, had he?_ \--but no, the Bookman Junior was gone, and one of the bedrooms was very firmly shut. He had expected to discuss--if nothing else--what they were supposed to do about food for the next few days, especially since Kanda was unlikely to care about that sort of thing. But no--for some reason, whatever was eating at Lavi was more important than...well. Actually eating.

There was a loud silence, the elephant in the room so prominent that Allen didn’t dare say a word, for fear of screaming. He took a deep breath, then another, and told himself, _I’m the one who’s angry at_ him. He...still hadn’t forgiven Lavi. But it was getting harder and harder to maintain a distance, especially when his friend was so obviously suffering. 

“Alright.” Allen muttered to himself, breathing in a fortifying breath, and releasing it slowly. “We’re okay. We’re…” 

He looked around, at the empty apartment, at the samurai ‘sleeping’ on the couch; at the closed door and the heavy, tense air that hung over them all. He breathed in the sense of misery and hopelessness, the stewing anger and the bitter pain, that seemed to permeate the walls.

Allen squeezed his eye shut, and covered his mouth with his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically the end of part one. The fact that it ends on such a nice number like ten is a great bonus.
> 
> Also, I would've posted earlier, but the document was literally so long it caused my Google Docs to crash about fifty times or so SMH.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [German]  
> "English"

The next few days continued in a similar vein; Allen was usually the first one awake, and had a bit of breakfast while he skimmed through the newspaper. Before he was done Kanda would wake up, though he wouldn’t become functional until he’d had his morning coffee. Allen would make said coffee, and then fold up his wheelchair under one arm so he could descend the stairs. From that point on, he would do a bit of exploring about the area, becoming familiar with the lay of the land and introducing himself to their new neighbors. 

(The woman who lived across the hall was a beady-eyed, suspicious looking Polish woman named Gladdice. Allen had accidentally caught her eye as he'd stepped out into the hall, and she'd slammed her door so fast and so hard that he'd been surprised that it hadn't rattled right off of its hinges. Ah, nothing like a bit of paranoia to remind you of the war.)

From what Kanda told him, Lavi usually slept in pretty late, probably because he always overdid it whenever he was doing his self-directed physical therapy. Allen would’ve scolded him, except that they still weren’t really talking, excepting coolly polite apologies whenever their wheelchairs ran into each other, or something like that. When the red-head wasn’t sleeping or doing physical therapy, he buried himself in his books and journals and refused to come out until dinner time. Or so Kanda told him, anyway. 

And Kanda, well--the swordsman tended to take Mugen up to the roof and just run through basic training drills for hours and hours, seemingly unaffected by fatigue or the blazing heat of the sun. Whenever Allen came up to see what he was doing, he always noted a kind of desperate ferocity in his movements, like he was still fighting something, or someone.

In other words, they were all completely miserable. 

“He’s bored.” Allen mused quietly on their third day there, around a mouthful of french toast. He was still in his bright blue star pajamas, which were soft and fluffy and about three sizes too large on him. They were his absolute favorite. They were, at the moment, the only bright spot in his monotonous and otherwise uneventful life. 

“No shit.” Kanda snorted into his coffee. It was about halfway gone, which meant that the caffeine still hadn’t quite hit his system yet. “He needs a….a job, or something.” The samurai let out a soft sigh and clunked his mug back onto the table, folding his arms across his chest.

There was a short, poignant silence, where Allen stared at Kanda and Kanda stared at the floor. Then he admitted, rather grudgingly, “I need a job. What with your weird-ass eating habits and the usagi’s book obsession, we’ll be broke within a month.”

Allen frowned at that, his surprise quickly being replaced with disbelief and an unpleasant sinking feeling. “We’re...not going to be here for that long, are we? Surely the situation will have been smoothed ...” He imagined a month of living with these two, in such tight quarters, Lavi’s silence and Kanda’s brooding…

Dying might be kinder, Allen mused dryly. But then he took a closer look at the swordsman, and-- 

Kanda teeth were gritted, a vein popping in his jaw; his arms were tight over his jacket. Allen read the tenseness of his posture, the uncertainty flickering in his usually unreadable eyes...

Sometimes, Allen forgot that Kanda was just as human as the rest of them. But right here, right now, Kanda was clearly just as lost as uncertain as Allen was. He hadn’t asked to be sent to Germany as Allen and Lavi’s protection detail, but here he was. It wasn’t fair of Allen to get mad at him, not when it was Allen’s fault that the swordsman was here in the first place. Kanda shouldn’t have to pay for Allen’s inadequacies.

And the worst part was that Allen couldn’t say anything to apologize for that. Kanda wouldn’t want to hear anything he had to say--it was his responsibility, and therefore in the samurai’s eyes, he was honor-bound to complete the mission. Sure, Allen could spew all the emotional crap he wanted at Kanda, but in the end, the elder teen wouldn’t care at all.

“Okay, well. I’m going for my walk.” Allen said abruptly, when the weird atmosphere got to be too much for him to handle. Kanda jumped a little, his hooded eyes following Allen as he stood up, and with hurried, practiced movements folded his wheelchair into a travel-sized box (God bless the science department). “I’ll keep an eye out for any job positions you might like. And Lavi too, I guess. Maybe there’s something that doesn’t require him to leave his wheelchair…?”

“I swear to god,” Kanda called after him, half rising from his seat like he was thinking about leaping from it and chasing the younger teen down. “If you get me a job like--like customer service or something, I will throw you out the window. I’m not even fucking kidding, you fucking beansprout.”

“Yes, yes.” Allen would’ve waved an arm airily at the ex-general, but his only one was being occupied by his traveling chair. He felt a frown creep up to his lips, but managed to keep his tone light as he said, “God knows you’d only get fired from it within a day or so.”

And as he moseyed down the stairs that morning, limping away from a random bystander who pretended not to stare at him, he thought, _Honestly, what could Kanda and Lavi even do?_

Kanda was a bit of a no brainer; something physical that he didn’t have to think too much about, that would take his mind off of...everything. Allen had heard from Johnny, the stories of when Kanda had been a general. Apparently, he had once spent a whole week fighting, barely stopping to eat or sleep, not resting until all the akuma were dead. And there were more tales like that; tales of Kanda’s unceasing devotion to the Order, of him saving people and becoming something to be believed in. 

But Allen...Allen knew Kanda better than that. Allen remembered a teenager who didn’t actually care much for the Order, or what it stood for. Allen remembered a boy who ran himself into the ground trying to forget his past, his present, and the emptiness that was his future. 

Kanda hadn’t been dedicated to anything. That was a ridiculous thought. No, he was restless and unsatisfied and if he had thought about it--about the war, about the friends he’d lost, about the friends he was going to lose--he’d have gone insane. Allen recognized that desire, that need to disconnect, because he himself felt it. Allen himself….

Okay, enough. Allen paused at the bottom of the stairs, and blew his hair away from his cheeks. Now was not the time for self-pity; it would not help Kanda or Lavi get a job, and it certainly wouldn’t be beneficial for him to be in a poor mood on his walk. 

He took a deep breath, straightened up, and marched right out the door and into the brisk morning air. 

_Labour hand?_ Allen considered as he automatically assembled his wheelchair and set off towards the farmers market, which was open early every morning, and reputedly sold the best food. There were a ton of farmers living in this area, and a great majority of them were grizzled with age and looking for a youngster to assist with menial tasks. It was very physical, and also didn’t require much interaction with the outside world--perfect for Kanda. His only concern was that if Kanda decided that being a labour hand wasn’t...dignified. Though, considering that the samurai had been a soldier for the majority of his life, Allen doubted that it would be a problem. 

Now Lavi--the Bookman Junior would be infinitely more difficult to figure out, and not just because of his current bad attitude. No, the main problem would be finding a job that didn’t require anything physical, that allowed Lavi to rest often--or at least sit down often. Some sort of secretarial job? Perhaps…

Allen rolled to a stop on one side of the street, and checked both ways for oncoming vehicles, eyes flicking back and forth with quick, practiced movements. He was about to cross when he realized which building he had stopped in front of--the library. He glanced up at it, lifting his hand to shield his eye from the glare of the morning sun. The words, ‘Berlin Bibliothek’ were painted on a sign above the door in embossed, golden lettering. _Berlin library,_ Allen mouthed, thinking. 

If there was one place that he knew Lavi would at the very least be content working at, it would be a place filled with books. Files to be organized, records to be kept. Perfect for a Bookman with no direction, and very little mobility. 

Allen folded up his chair, and walked slowly up the front steps.

-0-

 

Inside, the air smelled of parchment and old knowledge, beams of light scattering dust motes through the air. There was row upon row of hard, oak shelves, filled with every sort of book imaginable; children’s books with bright, playful colors, mysteries with high-collared detectives on the fronts. The most prominent thing about the library, however, was the almost dream-like peace that descended upon the place. 

There was a sort of disconnect here from the real world, a pocket in space and time that would seemingly not be affected by any sort of tragedy. Students with books piled so high you couldn’t see their faces sat in corners, turning pages with a sleepy lethargy. Learned men perusing the shelves dragged their fingers along dated spines, reading the titles with little care and less enthusiasm. 

A yawn bullied its way up and out of Allen’s throat, and he tipped back his head, barely remembering to cover his mouth. 

[Young man,] A voice whispered in German, thin and reedy, but so unexpected that Allen couldn’t help but leap away. The drowsiness that had been descending on him abruptly vanished, replaced with complete and utter fight-or-flight. 

Allen stared at the person who’d managed to sneak up on him, trying not to wheeze, his heart was pounding so hard. It was an old man with a thin-lipped smile, his skin riddled and stained with age, like an old wooden chest. His hands were gnarled and gripped tight around a thin, dark cane, which looked to be the only thing holding him up. 

Then Allen got a second, better look, and abruptly his shoulders dropped, whole body relaxing with surprise. [You’re…] But then he stopped himself, embarrassed. There was no polite way to say to someone, ‘you’re blind’. 

[Ah…]The old man let out a soft laugh. [You’ve noticed then.] He gestured towards his filmy, opaque eyes. Allen couldn’t help nodding before he realized that the old man couldn’t actually see him. 

“Um…” Allen started, trying to remember his German, which he hadn’t spoken in years. [It is...obvious.] Then he winced. [Pardon my rudeness, my German is not very good.]

The man laughed again, this time surprised delight coloring his rusty tone. [Oh, an Englishman! I did not expect to meet one so polite.]

He shifted a little at that, embarrassed by the praise. [I think it is important to respect one’s elders.] Then, uncomfortable with the attention and eager to move on, Allen jumped in with a quick, [What is your name, sir? If I may ask.]

The German tilted his head to one side, thin wisps of hair floating almost angelically around his ancient face. [My name is Henry, child. Henry Heminger. I have been the librarian here for as many years as it has been open.] There was a brief, considering pause, and then, [But I feel that you have more to ask of me than just my name.]

Startled, Allen reared back a little bit, blinking rapidly at the perceptiveness of this old, blind man. He was reluctantly impressed, and a little unsettled at how apparently easy he was to read. All the same, Allen had come here on a mission, and come hell or high water he was going to complete it. [Ah--yes, that is correct, Mr. Heminger. It’s just--my friend, he’s...he’s having a difficult time, and he’s always loved working with books. I thought that maybe if he were to become your assistant, it would help to calm his thoughts.]

Henry’s expression was as unreadable as the silence of the library; the lines in his face told thousands of stories, but what about, Allen didn’t know. He had no trouble believing that Henry was as old as he said he was--after all, it seemed as though the library had grown out of the ground in the elderly man’s image, rather than other way around. As the seconds past, Allen became more and more uncomfortable, certain that he had overstepped his boundaries somehow. Perhaps the library and Henry were never meant to be intruded upon, never meant to have their relationship strained by some newcomer--

[Send the boy to me.] Henry said abruptly, completely derailing Allen’s train of thought. [I’ll be the judge of whether or not he’ll actually be of any use.]

 

-0-

 

And finally, much, much later, when Allen was sitting on the river bank with his groceries at his side, staring out into the sparkling water, he just...thought. As he hadn't let himself do since the day he'd been forced to Germany. No, since the day he'd been poisoned. Maybe even earlier than that. 

He thought about Lavi, and about his odd behavior these past few days. About the deepening bags beneath his green eye, and the increasing restlessness. About Kanda, and the way he’d curled up on the couch the night before, the way he’d hunched over at the breakfast table like he was trying not to collapse under the weight of the world. He worried for them irrationally, constantly. They were soldiers, they were nameless; they were prickly and arrogant and above all lacked direction. At least Kanda was semi-functional at this point--Lavi was being completely irrational. 

And he thought about months trapped in this apartment with Lavi and Kanda with no escape, no freedom, nothing but long empty spans of uselessness. He thought about waking up every morning and walking to the market, scanning for the freshest food as the citizens around him whispered things like _cripple_ and _war veteran_. He thought of curious eyes, boring holes into the place where his arm had once been, his eye, but not curious enough to talk to him. Like he was some sort of zoo animal. 

He thought about limping up the stairs every day, barely able to carry all of his groceries while Kanda became rugged with physical labor. He thought about Lavi nearly tripping over himself in a rush to get down the stairs on his way to work, because with his physical therapy regime, he’d be back to his usual strength in no time. 

(Or worse. Maybe, Kanda would become more and more standoffish every day, maybe he would retreat so deeply into himself that he'd never acclimatize. Maybe the violence in his soul would win out, and he'd snap and accidentally kill someone. Maybe not accidentally. 

Maybe, Lavi would slowly lose the will to live, getting out of bed later and later, refusing to eat or sleep or take care of himself. Maybe, Lavi would not be able to recover from being abandoned by his mentor, and would die before the folly could be repaired.) 

But meanwhile, Allen Walker would limp around as useless as ever, wasting away. It wouldn't matter what happened to Kanda and Lavi, because either way, they had potential. They had a future, as long as they reached for it. But Allen?

No one would hire a one-eyed, one-armed cripple with more nightmares than sleep. No one wanted that burden, and as soon as Lavi and Kanda got permission, they would leave him behind. Allen would rot away in some...place, and the only thing people would feel was pity. _Poor, pitiful, useless Allen. Didn’t you hear? He’s gone. What? No, he’s not dead, don’t be barbaric. He just isn’t quite alive anymore either. Well, he might be dead. Who could tell?_

Allen let out a quiet sigh, and closed his eye against the bright blue sky, blocked his ears to the rushing of the water. The scents of the city mixed with damp faded from his awareness, replaced with a soft, relentless nothingness. And for a moment he could pretend that nothing had changed, that all was well, that his eye and arm had been returned to him, and he was no longer a useless little lump of self-pity and self-loathing sprawled out on one side of the river. 

Then he opened his eyes, and unsurprisingly, nothing had changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)
> 
> Edit 11/24/2016 WHOOPS LOL 
> 
> thanks to this one reviewer for pointing it out, but Archive of Our Own deleted my super fancy arrows which was SUPPOSED to let you be able to tell what was German and what wasn't. I've fixed it hopefully.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning--there is a reference to a terminal illness in this chapter, as well as a small panic attack on Allen's part.

Allen offered the labor hand job to Kanda, who reacted exactly the way Allen had expected him to--with a muted grumble of protest for show, but no real argument. After all, they both knew that if Allen had been a moron and selected something that required extensive interactions with other people, Kanda would be in jail for causing bodily injury within a day. The swordsman simply did not deal well with socializing. 

“But wait, hold on a minute,” Allen broke in, a little confused by something. “Weren’t you in charge of a bunch of teams of finders for a long time?”

“I was,” Kanda admitted, slowly, as though he’d rather not think about it. “But they never argued with me, not unless they had good reason to. Finders at least understood that they should listen to me or die--regular people are just stupid.” He fielded an annoyed look Allen’s way. “Like you.”

Vaguely offended at--not being called stupid, necessarily, that was an insult he was used to--but _normal_ , now there was a barb he couldn’t ignore. Allen puffed up a little, and flicked his silver-grey hair to one side. “I’ll have you know, that I am anything but normal.”

If Kanda rolled his eyes back any farther, they would be able to see the inside of his own skull, Allen was almost certain of this. But to his surprise, the swordsman didn’t say anything to accompany the truly epic eyeroll--just shifted uncomfortably, his eyes trawling across the back of the apartment with a faux disinterested look that Allen could spot from a mile away. 

“Ah…” Allen ventured. “Kanda?”

Allen knew it was a very, very strange day when Kanda didn’t take the obvious bait and insult the living daylights out of Allen. He knew that it was an even stranger day when Kanda let out a deep sigh, pushed his hair back from his eyes, and said, “Listen, beansprout,” in a tone of voice that immediately put him on edge. 

“Yes…?” He responded, eyes narrowing suspiciously. 

“You know you have to talk to the _usagi_ at some point, right?” Kanda looked deeply uncomfortable, as though he’d rather be drinking poison than talking on the subject, but--

“What?” Allen asked, almost too surprised by the oddly stilted segue to catch the exact meaning of that tentative, blunt query. But when he finally parsed it out, he was even more surprised, because Kanda was definitely not the sort of person who liked to talk about his own feelings, much less somebody else's. The personality 180 was completely unexpected and not entirely welcome, given the subject matter. “What the hell, Kanda? It’s not really your business, is it?” 

“My _muugen_ could cut the tension between you two right now.” Kanda growled back. “I’m sick of it. Whatever he did that pissed you off so much, whatever you did that pissed him off so much--it’s not worth this. There’s holding grudges and then there’s being petty.”

Allen looked away, angry at being told what to do, but also a little embarrassed, because he knew that Kanda was speaking the truth. As much as he wanted that apology, as much as he wanted Lavi to show remorse for attacking his most private secret--it wasn’t fair to Kanda. It was obvious that the apartment couldn’t go on functioning the way it was now. 

And to tell the truth, Allen...kind of missed the Bookman Junior.

If anyone was going to bridge the gap first, it was obviously going to have to be Allen. As much as the thought pained him. 

“I’ll…” Allen began, then sighed softly, and raked back his bangs. “I’ll talk to him.” 

\-------------

“I won’t do it.”

“Lavi!” Allen hissed out, his patience already fraying, despite the conversation only having consisted of a softly-posed question and a quick, dismissive answer. Anger roiled in his chest, threatening to upset his composure, but he forced himself to push it down, _down._

Lavi was turned away, looking out the window with dull, vaguely annoyed eyes, like his mind was absent from the conversation. In his mind, the conclusion had already been decided, and that only further incensed Allen.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kanda watching the impending altercation with vague interest. Probably wondering whether or not he would have to step in. _He won’t have to,_ Allen thought with a touch of vicious disgust, _Lavi and I are so weak that even if we did attack each other, it wouldn’t go anywhere._

_Patience, patience,_ He told himself, breathing in and out deeply. “Why won’t you even go and talk to Mr. Heminger?” He tried to reason. 

Lavi’s eyes flickered sideways, almost accusatory in their coldness but--what had Allen done? What had he done, besides try and procure a job that would get Lavi out of the house and into the real world again? Was it because Allen had held a grudge against him for so long? But the Bookman said nothing, apparently content to let Allen fume in complete and utter apathy. 

Allen searched for something, anything that would convince Lavi to change his mind, but the only thing that his mind procured for him was why, why, why. Why was he like this, avoiding Allen, refusing to work with them whatsoever? For what reason did Lavi have to be so...resistant to reason?

And then Allen deflated, all the fury drained out of him abruptly, leaving him feeling empty and sad and aching. He simply...didn’t understand. Lavi was...in pain. Lavi was battling with something, and he wouldn’t even let Allen reach out to him, try to create some sort of understanding. Allen had held onto his grudge long enough--there was a time and a place to let things go, and that time and place was here and now. 

“Lavi, please.” Allen whispered, a soft plea in his voice. 

The tone more than anything else seemed to catch the Bookman’s attention--he finally looked at Allen, directly in the eye, his face a study of bland surprise. Even Kanda, who was still perched on the couch nearby, just watching them, shifted a little, uncertain as to where the change in tone had come from. 

Allen took a deep breath and, to his utter horror, found himself choking down tears. But maybe he was just--just tired, of fighting with Lavi day after day, of fighting with his disabilities and his weakness. He was tired of waking up and staring at the ceiling of his room, at the unfamiliar cracks, and realizing that he was never going to be in control of his own life, not anymore. He was tired of the endless, terrifying sensation of falling alone, and of the ceaseless ache above his heart. 

He turned away from the Bookman and put his hand to his mouth, trying to stifle the weakness that welled up from inside of him. With a voice as steady as he could manage, he asked the wall, “Why won’t you talk to me?” He paused for just a moment, just a second, and then a thought occurred to him. It felt as though someone had just punched him in the stomach, his air leaving him all at once. He didn’t want to know, he didn’t, but he had to ask, he had to-- “Is...is it because of...because of The Earl?”

His desperate question was met with hard, unyielding silence. A long time ago, he might have been embarrassed to be showing such emotion, but considering the present company--Kanda, who had seen him break down during their very first mission together, and Lavi, who knew his tears well--he was unconcerned with it. What he cared more about was the fact that his words were met with seeming indifference. And remembering how their argument so long ago had first began, with Lavi’s subtle jab at Mana and the Millennium Earl, it would make sense. God, it would make perfect sense. 

Allen hadn’t even considered the fact that he had been a Noah, the thing which had tortured Lavi into his coma in the first place. Perhaps the Bookman had simply used their argument as an excuse to stop talking to him. Did Lavi’s bones shake every time he saw Allen? Did their conversations only drag him back to his time as a captive? Did--

“Allen,” Lavi began, sounding startled. “It’s...no, of course not, how could you think that?” 

At that, Allen’s awareness suddenly returned to the present, and all at once he realized that he was hyperventilating, his breath coming in quiet, panicked huffs. He struggled--with Lavi’s words and their meaning, with his dizziness, with the lack of air in his lungs. He wasn’t even sure that he was going to be able to speak, his vision was spotting so badly. 

When Allen said nothing, Lavi continued, in that same bemused, bewildered tone. “Allen, this has...this has nothing to do with you.”

“Doesn’t it?” Allen barked out a harsh laugh, though it came out as more hysterical than anything else. “You’ve been avoiding me for the past week, you won’t even _look_ at me--”

Lavi interrupted urgently, his voice low and coaxing. “Allen, look at me.” 

Allen froze, his muscles unwilling to move from their position, hand wrapped around his waist. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want to move--he wanted to, he wanted to so badly it hurt, but he wasn’t sure what he’d see. 

“Allen.” Lavi said again. 

Allen forced his joints to unlock, and slowly turned around, his eye lifting unwillingly to stare into Lavi’s. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d expected to see--anger, rejection, pity--but what he had not expected to see were tears. 

“L-Lavi.” He whispered, blinking at his friend--if they could even be called that anymore. 

“Allen, I’m...I’m sorry I didn’t tell you anything.” Lavi was staring at him with an oddly imploring, empty look on his face. “I'm sorry it took me so long to say this, but--Bookman is dying.” 

Allen sucked in a harsh breath, every nerve ending in his body suddenly going numb. His mind, unbidden, flew back to his and the Bookman’s meeting, so long ago--the older man’s clear exhaustion, his sallow face-- and the only thing he could manage was a weak, shocked, “Oh.”

“Be-Before we left…” Lavi said quietly, dragging his hands through his limp red hair again and again, “I--Bookman left me a letter, and I only read it the morning before we boarded the train, and--” He sniffled quietly, his face crumbling. “He’s got--some sort of terminal illness, probably cancer, it doesn’t matter--” 

“Oh Lavi.” Allen whispered, and before he could convince himself otherwise, he stepped forward and wrapped his arm around the Bookman Junior’s shoulders. He was so thin, so delicate, that Allen was almost worried he would shatter his friend into a million little pieces with a touch. “I’m--I’m so sorry, I--”

“No, I--” Lavi shook his head so violently he almost dislodged Allen in the process. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t--couldn’t face you after what I said to you, about Mana--” A sound ripped out of his throat, sounding more like an animal keen than a human cry. “And then Bookman, and my legs, I just couldn’t, it was all too much--”

They had far more to talk about. There was no possible way that their problems could be solved like this, with a cry and a long-overdue conversation--but it was a start. Allen could ignore everything else, especially with Lavi sobbing and broken in his arms, and hold on as tight as he possibly could. 

Then he looked up, and caught Kanda’s wide-eyed, ominous stare from the couch--and realized that this was not over. 

Not by a long shot. 

\--------------------

“Kanda, the Bookman’s death...what will it mean?”

Lavi was in bed, having cried himself out in Allen’s arms, too exhausted to do anything more than curl up and stare into nothingness. Allen ached for his friend, ached to reach out and help him, but--there was nothing he could do, not now. Lavi needed to sleep, to regain his energy--and then they would talk it over in the morning. They would say the things that needed to be said. 

But right now, Allen was seated at the table with a mug of green tea, watching Kanda steadily over the rim with dark, silver eyes. He had seen the expression the samurai had been wearing when Lavi had announced the Bookman’s impending death. It had only spelled out trouble, loud and clear as if Kanda had screamed it. 

Kanda massaged his temples with his hands, looking more exhausted than he had just an hour earlier. His own green tea was cooling next to him, its smell seeping into the air around them and permeating the apartment. Allen wished there was something he could do for the samurai to relieve some of the weight on his shoulders, but...there was nothing. Not when Allen was the cause of most of his troubles in the first place. 

“The Bookman was supposed to be our greatest ally in helping you to regain face with the other exorcists.” He said finally, letting one hand drop to his mouth, the other reflexively clutching around his tea. “As a senior Bookman, he was going to spread information pertaining to your innocence--not the one you fight with--to the other Bookman across the continents.” 

Allen absorbed that information quietly, suddenly understanding why Kanda had looked so frightened earlier. The tea in his palm suddenly felt a little more like a lifeline--a rather useless one, certainly, but it was the only thing keeping him steady. “And with the Bookman gone…”

“Bao Lei’s Bookman is the next most senior officer, and is completely loyal to her.” Kanda continued, mouth twisting into a stormy grimace. “Bookman are supposed to be impartial to historical events, but…” At this, Kanda looked ready to spit. “With enough money, even the most dedicated can be swayed. Her Bookman will spread false information about you, to ensure that she can vilify you. With your execution, she will come into power.”

“So--” Allen began, then stopped, then tried to start again, “So--what do we do? How do--” He broke off, staring into his tea, biting down hard on his lip. 

“For now, the Bookman seems well enough to travel and spread information as necessary.” Kanda said, for the first time looking Allen dead in the eye. “But after that...well, we have no idea. Although Lavi is his apprentice, his word means basically nothing against Bao Lei’s Bookman, because of his seniority.” 

Allen closed his eyes, thinking. 

He thought hard, aware of Kanda watching him, aware of the dead silence of the apartment. The only other thing he noticed was the still ever-present scent of tea. Ah, he thought, his eyes slitting open. _Ah, I’m not sure why I expected anything else._

“I understand what I need to do.” He said quietly, his voice toneless and void of the wretched despair he felt gathering in his stomach. He didn’t dare look at Kanda, not wanting to see that harsh, unforgiving glare, and instead rose gracefully to his feet. “I--you won’t have any more problems, I’ll see to that myself.”

“Wait.” Kanda said, but Allen didn’t stop. He turned away, not wanting to prolong their goodbyes--only to be halted by the soft brush of Kanda’s hand going through the space where his Innocence arm had once been. 

They both froze, Kanda with shock when he realized that he had just tried to catch hold of Allen’s nonexistent arm, Allen with surprise, because the sensation of Kanda’s hand brushing where his arm had once been was unnerving and strange. For a moment Allen tried to clench his hand, his fingers, grasped desperately for sensations that he had once taken for granted--but no more, no more. He was suddenly reminded of that time not more than a month ago, when Kanda had risen to leave him and Allen had lurched forward, trying and failing to grasp onto the swordsman. 

Kanda was the first to recover. He jumped to his feet, and strode around the table so he could corner Allen against his chair. “What do you understand?” He snarled in Allen’s face, his dark eyes fierce and unforgiving. “What did you take from that, you stupid beansprout?”

“I’ve become too much trouble, haven’t I?” Allen asked, practically begged. “I’m--I’m just a useless cripple, after all, I can’t--I’m not worth anything anymore to the Order.” Kanda’s eyes widened at that, but Allen didn’t let him interrupt. “If you--if I turn myself in, if I just let myself be turned into a villain, I won’t be a problem anymore, right?” 

And now that he considered that, it was a good idea, wasn’t it? To-- “Use me to restore faith in the Order.” Allen said, warming up to the thought. “If the European branch executes me first, then that will--”

“Don’t be a fucking idiot, Allen Walker!” Kanda shouted, pushing Allen even further up against the table, his face fierce and glittering with fury. “There’s no way we’d--”

“Well what else am I good for?” He screamed back. Kanda stumbled backward, barely managing to catch his balance on the back of the couch. “I can’t work, I can’t fight, I _might as well be dead!”_

A sharp crack rang out through the apartment, and for a second Allen didn’t realize what had just happened. He felt the sting, and he saw the hardwood of their apartment floor, but the implications of it--the sound, the sight, the pain--didn’t compute. Not until he slowly reached up to touch his cheek, already reddening--Kanda’s slap had been swift and unforgiving. 

It was then he realized that, sometime during his and Kanda’s argument, Lavi had woken up and was staring at the two of them, wide-eyed, from the hallway. 

“Listen to me well, you stupid beansprout, because I’m only going to say this once.” The samurai in front of him growled, while Allen gazed uncomprehendingly at Lavi. He tore his gaze away from the redhead, too surprised to do anything more than blink dumbly at the swordsman. “You are not weak, you are not useless, and--” Kanda’s whole face twitched, as though he were in pain. “I-I respect. You. A little.”

Allen’s jaw actually dropped at that. 

Rallying himself, Kanda continued, “But right now, you’re--actually I lied, I don't respect you anymore. Not with this fucking attitude you've got going on. What did Mana say to you?”

At first, Allen thought that it was a rhetorical question. But as the silence sharpened, and as Kanda’s glare took on a more reproachful edge, he hurried to supply, “He told me to keep walking.”

Kanda shifted back on his heels, a satisfied smirk crossing his features. “That’s right, Allen Walker.”

“Allen…” Lavi said quietly, and Allen jumped, having forgotten about the Bookman Junior essentially the second he’d noticed him. His footsteps were quiet and unobtrusive as he hesitantly toed his way across the room, stopping when his fingertips gently ghosted across the table. He looked hesitant, uncertain, as though he were no longer sure of his own welcome. 

Allen shrank back a little from the Bookman junior, feeling equally confused about exactly where their friendship stood, now that the air was somewhat cleared. 

Lavi’s eyes darkened a little at the subtle movement, perhaps with hurt--but then he shook his hair from his eye, and softened his expression. Clearly they still had a long way to go before everything would be alright. “Allen, you don’t need to be useful for us to--to want to protect you.”

“But don’t you see?” Allen whispered tremulously, looking away from the two of them. “Bao Lei won’t stop until I’m dead. I can run as much as I want, but one day she’s going to catch up. She’s far too determined to just let me live in peace. And I won’t--I won’t run anymore. I can’t.”

Kanda’s face twisted into a frustrated snarl. “So what, you’re just planning on giving up?”

“Yes.” He answered reflexively, then sighed angrily at himself at his own cowardice, “No! I’m not giving up, I’m just--it’s better for the Order if I’m dead.”

“Are you really that selfish, that you think all our problems will be solved if you decide to make a noble sacrifice?” Lavi cut in bitingly, startling Allen with the intensity of his words. He looked momentarily regretful, but powered on with dogged shake of his head. “Right now the conflict is being focused on you, but if you decided to remove yourself from the playing field, then the conflict will shift to something or someone else. Bao Lei is only hunting you because she thinks that your death would put her in power.”

Allen resisted the urge to turn away and hide his face in his hand again--it wouldn’t help any of them if he panicked. His fingers drummed an unsteady rhythm at his side, like the pounding of his thoughts, and he was only marginally aware of both Lavi and Kanda watching his unsettled movements with keen eyes. Finally he implored, “So I can’t kill myself, I can’t run, I can’t fight--what should I do?”

“Let us help you.” Lavi quipped immediately. “Let us watch your back, and let Komui and the others take care of Bao Lei. Believe that you have a future that doesn’t depend on your usefulness to the Order.”

“I can guarantee that nobody can get past my sword.” Kanda said firmly, his hand straying to the hilt of the katana at his side. “Give me your back, and I’ll give you my protection.”

“And I’ll give you my mind.” Lavi added in, which caused Allen to give him a small, unsure smile. The Bookman Junior shot an equally small but fierce smile back, more confident now that he was farther away from his own problems. “We can help you, Allen. But you need to trust us.”

And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it?

Allen didn’t know if he’d ever be able to trust another person again, not after the catastrophe that had been his relationship with Mana. He sometimes hated himself for never quite being able to give himself completely to another person--Lenalee and Master Cross, to name a few--but he had had enough betrayals in his lifetime that the habit had felt justified. He had learned, after countless years of traveling on his own and doing everything on his own, that his greatest and only ally was himself. 

(And even that had become circumspect, when the Fourteenth was still living in his--

No, stop. Don’t think about it, don’t you dare.)

Right now, Lavi and Kanda were standing before him, imploring him to let them handle his protection. They were asking him to do as he’d never been able to do before--to trust them wholeheartedly, even beyond his own judgement. He didn’t know if he could manage it, even if he tried, especially with his and Lavi’s argument still so close. And what reason did they have to want to protect him, anyway? Allen had been an enemy to them more often than not during the war. There was no reason for him to have their forgiveness, and yet--

\--it’d be so easy, to just let everyone else handle the war. 

Besides, he was tired. And if Kanda and Lavi thought that they could protect him, then, well--Allen could pretend, for a little while, that they actually wanted to.

It wouldn’t hurt to let them try. 

Allen let his shoulders droop, and closed his eye, breathing deeply through his nose. He could do this, he could. 

“Then,” He murmured, and curved his back into a low, formal bow, “I’ll entrust my care to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm actually really, really glad that I get to clear the air about Lavi in this chapter, because he's actually one of my favorite characters. You cannot believe how guilty I felt making his character in this way, but I feel like he needed a pretty extreme reaction to the extreme pain he was going through. First, he's so weak that he can barely do anything for himself. Second, he shits on one of his closest friends and feels mega guilty about it for a million years. Third, his father figure is DYING and Lavi is STUCK IN A WHEELCHAIR so he can't go after him. 
> 
> That being said, this does not excuse Lavi for being such a dick these last few chapters. Allen wasn't exactly the paragon of virtue either. They're both people and if they don't have flaws then they'll never get the chance to grow and get better. 
> 
> Obviously after so long of being dicks to each other Allen and Lavi won't be able to solve their issues immediately, but they've at least got an understanding going. Which is more than they had last chapter.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week on: Lenalee fucks shit up
> 
> If y'all are uncomfortable with death, go to the notes at the end and I'll give you a brief explanation about who dies and how. If you don't want to read about it, skip to about halfway through the chapter, to get to Allen, Kanda, and Lavi. 
> 
> Also, for those of you who don't remember who Bao Lei is: she's the gal who's trying to villainize Allen so she can seize control of the Chinese branch from Bak. 
> 
> [Chinese]

Lenalee strode through the halls of the Black Order, her steps as silent and light as they were thoughtful. Her shadow threw silhouettes of darkness across the walls, the sharp lines of her thin face making her seem almost statuesque. She looked, in other words, like the leader people thought of her as; cold, aloof, untouchable in her status as the Heart of Innocence. 

However, she was not nearly so detached as she was pretending to be. 

Lenalee was definitely not the same girl she had been two years ago; Allen’s behavior around her had proved that without a doubt. He had expected the same young, immature child he knew from before, and had received the older, hardened version with barely concealed shock. However, her ideals were much the same, if anyone cared to ask--she still valued her friends and their futures far more than she valued the rest of the world. It was her greatest strength, when she found she lacked the will to go on. But it was also her Achilles heel, her _hamartia_ , which had nearly dragged all of them to defeat during the war.

Komui had begged her to curb her behavior, to hide her true opinions from the world lest the enemy use it against them, and she had. She had done so to protect Komui and the other exorcists, allowing people to believe that when it came down to it, she would protect the lives of the many above the lives of the few. 

But the war was over. The war was over, and a single precious life had nearly been taken from her. Lenalee was done being nice; she would rain hell upon whoever dared to even think about touching her friend. Bao Lei was a formidable opponent, certainly--but that woman was nothing compared to the Heart of Innocence enraged. 

Lenalee would do whatever it took to protect Allen Walker; she would smash the world apart if she had to. He had paid his pound of flesh, had fought and nearly died in a war that no child should have ever been part of. The fact that anyone dared to try and destroy his well-deserved peace and safety made her teeth grind. 

Even with this fact, however, Lenalee was not looking forward to this next meeting. Normally, Lenalee would’ve been thrilled to put someone like this in his or her place. But the fact of the matter was that this person had once been a friend of hers, someone who had fought next to her and protected her back when she was defenseless. 

She would not run away from this confrontation--that would be cowardly, and unfitting of a war hero such as her. It was her duty to take him out before he caused any more trouble. 

But it did not make things easier. 

Lenalee paused in front of a door to one of the dorms, her violet eyes flicking back and forth in a practiced movement, checking for any hidden enemies. She did not expect for anyone to actually be there; it was more a habit than anything else. 

Then, she took a deep breath, and knocked. Lightly, perfunctorily; the person inside would have no idea that anything was wrong. 

There was a brief pause, a shuffling sound, and then--

Chaoji opened the door, his face a study of polite surprise as he took in Lenalee. “Miss Lee!” He said, and then his face twisted into an embarrassed grimace. “I’m...sorry, I’m not really dressed for company right now.” 

Lenalee smiled a little at his pajamas, though her gaze remained stony and unreadable. “That’s fine, Chaoji. I promise I won’t take up too much of your time. May I come in?”

A little confused, the ex-soldier pulled away a little and opened the door wider so Lenalee could step through. His dorm was sparse and mostly void of any personal items, as were most ex-soldiers rooms--after all, people had little time to get attached to things when they were constantly fighting. 

Chaoji waited for Lenalee to fully enter before shuffling over to the bed and sinking down onto it, a little sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind if I sit.” He gestured towards his skeletal legs. He, like Lavi, had been in a coma due to the Noah parasite, and had only just recently woken up. He was not nearly as bad off as the Bookman Jr., but he was still supposed to go through physical therapy for an extensive period of time. 

“Be my guest.” Lenalee responded faintly, keeping her back to the door, hands loose at her sides. If she so chose, she could draw a weapon--any kind of weapon--within a moment and deflect an attack from any angle. 

Chaoji must have noticed something off about her posture--or maybe her voice--because all the emotion slowly slid off his face, leaving behind nothing but blankness. There was a tense moment of silence, where Chaoji simply let his hands drop to his knees, and Lenalee watched him do so, attentive. Then, Chaoji said, in a voice that was carefully steady, “Can I ask what you came around for, Miss Lee?”

Lenalee’s lips quirked ever so slightly, as though she found something in his words to be funny. Then, she reached into her pocket--

(Chaoji leaned forward a little, his eyebrows cutting deep furrows into his forehead,)

\--and pulled out a little glass vile, filled about half-way with some sort of clear liquid. 

Chaoji straightened, suddenly confused with this change in direction; he tilted his head to one side, and studied the little container. Lenalee waited patiently for him to finish his inspection, simply holding the glass in front of her. 

When he did, he sat back and scratched his chin, befuddled. “I’m...afraid I don’t understand, Miss Lee. What is that?”

Lenalee waited a second longer, before relaxing her arm and letting the vial slip into her palm. She studied it for a second, swishing the liquid contemplatively around in its glass confines as she thought. “Do you know what botulinum is, Chaoji?”

Chaoji, no longer expecting anything nefarious, quirked his lips and shook his head, somewhat self-deprecatingly. There was a new light in his eyes, more confident, as the attack he’d been anticipating turned into a simple questioning. 

_Fool,_ Lenalee thought, disgusted. 

“That sounds like something the science department would be interested in. I know nothing about that sort of thing.” Chaoji responded, shrugging. 

“I’m sure.” Lenalee said lightly, before lifting the vial back up into the low lamplight and giving it a little shake. “This isn’t botulinum, but this substance was based off of botulinum. The science department created it because they believed it had the capacity to kill the Noah.”

Chaoji stilled. 

“That’s...interesting.” He said slowly, the brief moment of security he’d been enjoying slowly dissipating as his understanding of the situation became clearer. “Did it...you know, did it work?”

Lenalee shook her head, rocking the vial gently back and forth, like the ticking of a clock. Chaoji’s eyes were fixed to it with an avid interest, no longer fully paying attention to their conversation. Lenalee allowed her smile to return--so he knew. _Good._

“It was deemed too dangerous to be used. The science department was just figuring out how they were going to scrap it when the war ended. Destroying it became less of a priority than rebuilding.” She closed her eyes, and allowed her fingers to curl around the deadly toxin, cutting off Chaoji’s view. His eyes lifted laboriously from her hand to her face, eyes hard and unflinching. “But I’m sure you already knew that, considering you tried to murder Allen Walker with it not a week ago.”

And just like that, the spell broke. 

“That monster had it coming.” Chaoji snarled, half-rising to his feet as his anger was finally let go. “He killed all those people-- _all those people_ \--” He broke off, growling low in his throat. “How could you side with him, after they killed Lady Anita? And all of my friends? How could you--”

Lenalee vanished from view--

Only to reappear a second later right in front of Chaoji, eyes deep violet and cruel, lips curled into a mocking smile. The ex-soldier reared back in surprise, but it was too late--there was a butterfly knife pressed to his throat, and Lenalee was leaning up against him, applying just enough pressure to draw blood. 

No, she did not enjoy hurting someone who had once been a friend--

\--but in this situation, she was willing to make an exception. 

“You’re not asking the right questions,” She coaxed gently, her blade tracing the curve of his neck and leaving a very thin red line behind. “You should be asking, ‘what can I do to keep you from killing me?’ Or how about you tell me who else has been giving information to Bao Lei?” Her smiled sharpened slightly. “A coward like you should be willing to do anything, don’t you think?”

It took a second for Chaoji to find his voice again, but when he did, it only had the barest tremor of fear in it. Something dropped in Lenalee’s chest, because it would’ve been easier if he was pathetic and cowardly--this bravery made her sad. Chaoji had been such a good, loyal soldier. He had been a good, loyal friend. “I-I would never beg in front of a Noah-sympathizer like you!” 

Lenalee considered this for a moment, before nodding her assent. It was a shame, but there was nothing else for it. “I’m sorry I have to do this, Chaoji.” She told him sincerely, honestly wishing that things could be different. “You were a good friend, when you weren’t such a _fucking moron_.”

Then, she slipped the knife in and severed his carotid artery. 

If nothing else, it was quick.

Komui was waiting for her outside the room, carefully not looking over her shoulder at the corpse she’d left on the floor. Lenalee felt a moment of fond exasperation--her brother was, and always had been, far too soft. Soldiers like her, who had regularly seen the battlefield, could look at corpses without feeling more than a pang of soft sadness. 

[Our mole has been taken care of.] Lenalee reported calmly in Chinese, wiping the blood off of her blade. [I’m not optimistic enough to think that he was acting alone, though.]

“I agree.” Komui responded in English, falling into step beside her as they headed back upstairs toward his office. Two finders scuttled into Chaoji’s dorm behind them, tasked with the unpleasant job of cleaning up the mess Lenalee had left behind. Her brother glanced at her idly from the corner of his eye, his tone mild around his sibilant Chinese, [It would have been nice to leave him alive, you know. Maybe we could’ve gotten the names of the other informants.]

Lenalee shrugged, and slipped the knife back into its sheath at her wrist. [Chaoji was far too loyal to give away anything. He would’ve bitten his own tongue out before he said a word.] Komui met her eyes steadily when she finally let them slide over. [It would be far simpler to find someone else and get the information out of them.]

Komui paused for a moment, allowing Lenalee to enter his office before him. Then he said, a note a humor in his voice, [I suppose I’ll just have to trust your judgement on this one.]

Amused, Lenalee went to the couch and flopped down onto it, body loose and lazy as she sprawled out. She bore a remarkable resemblance to a cat, stretched out in the sun. [Indeed, considering he’s already dead.] Then, she perked up, pushing up onto her elbows so she could catch sight of her brother, who was making his way to his desk. [Is it safe for Allen and the others to return, then?]

[Not yet.] Komui responded sharply, giving his sister a warning look. [If Bao Lei doesn’t know where they are, she can’t hurt them.]

Lenalee pouted, and let herself drop back onto the cushions with a quiet huff. 

Her brother stared at her for a second longer, as though making sure she wasn’t about to go running off to find her friends. Then, he allowed his gaze to soften, and carefully sat in his chair, shuffling the papers around on his desk. (Just because the war was over didn’t mean the paperwork had ended. Ugh.) 

After a moment, Komui said, very gently, [Thank you for doing that, Lenalee. I know that must have been hard for you.]

Lenalee tensed up, sucking in a deep breath of air, as though she was angry--but then she sighed gustily, bit her lip and rolled onto her side. Just because she was used to all the death and violence didn’t mean she had to like it. When her brother had asked her if she was willing to...remove Chaoji, to prevent him from hurting anyone else, she had of course been willing, but…

Killing humans was something she really hadn’t had to do much of. It wasn’t something she wanted to do much more of, to tell the truth. 

But instead of saying any of that--this was her burden to bear, her heavy but inescapable duty as the Heart--she responded with, [So what’s our next move?]

Komui sighed, obviously recognizing the dodge for what it was. But then he opened his desk and pulled out a few files, fingering the edges of the papers between his fingertips. In English, he said, “We have removed their most important mole. They can no longer easily get information from us.” Komui felt a smile slowly spread across his face. “Which means it’s time to strike back.”

Lenalee flipped onto her belly, so she could properly see her brother’s face--and when she did, a thrill of elation ripped through her. Finally. Finally, they could stop sitting around and feeling helpless and actually do something. 

Her wretched grin grew to match his. 

\------------------------

Allen and Kanda were sitting at the table the next morning, each sipping their respective hot drinks, when Lavi finally shuffled out of his bedroom. 

A little startled--it had been a long time since Allen had interacted with Lavi for more than a few seconds, and they rarely saw each other in the morning--Allen lowered his tea. He opened his mouth to ask what the redhead was doing there--which he realized was a dumb question just in time, Lavi lived with them--before allowing his jaw to snap shut. Lavi looked equally uncertain, slowly shifting his weight back and forth, wheelchair folded under one arm. The following silence drew out between them, Kanda watching the interaction with avid, disgusted interest. 

In a word, it was really awkward. 

It took about ten seconds for the elephant in the room to be too much for Kanda. “I’m going to work.” He muttered, slinging his coat over his shoulders and escaping like a coward out the front door. Lavi watched him leave with this desperate look on his face, as though he’d like to be right behind the ex-samurai. 

And then they were alone. 

Allen sighed and shifted his tea to one side, before gesturing at the seat that Kanda had vacated. It looked like it would be up to him to take the first step in bridging the gap between them. “Why don’t you...sit down, Lavi.”

Lavi jumped a little, blinking in surprise at Allen, as though he hadn’t actually expected for Allen to speak. Then he shook his head, and smoothed his hair away from his face, expression going sheepish. “Ye-yeah...I guess I should.”

They grimaced at each other as Lavi sat down, taking comfort in the fact that the other was just as uncomfortable as they were. But they needed to talk, to solve this issue that had been sitting between them for so long. They had to rely on each other in these precarious times; any moment of mistrust, of perceived betrayal, and it would all be over.

Also...Allen really just missed his friend. He would’ve counted Lavi among his closest, during the war; there was almost no one else he had trusted more.

“I just wanted to say--” Lavi started, at the exact same second Allen began, “I think we should--”

They stopped, staring at each other. 

“You first.” Allen said, smiling wanly at his friend. 

“Okay.” And the fact that Lavi actually took Allen up on that showed just how poorly he must have been feeling. “I just wanted to...apologize.” Lavi looked away, raking his fingers through his fringe in a gesture of nerves. “My behavior recently has been…” He let out a choked laugh. “Well, it hasn’t been mature, or fair to you, I know.”

Allen tapped his fingers against the table, trying to figure out the best way to word what he wanted to say. “I…” He began, then shook his head, abandoning that line of thought just as quickly. He was willing to forgive, definitely. But he wanted an explanation, something. He had just spent weeks worrying that Lavi’s sour mood had been because of their argument--he wanted to know why, if it wasn’t that. “I want to forgive you, Lavi. What with the Bookman’s sickness and all…” 

He shook his head again. “No, I certainly wouldn’t expect for your behavior to be normal. But Lavi,” He implored, “Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you just…” The pitch of his voice rose with his words, and Allen paused and took a deep breath, to force it back down. “I could have understood, at the very least. Kanda and I could’ve tried to help you, somehow.” 

“...I guess…” Lavi trailed off, his eye distant and hooded as he pondered that. “I thought--I thought--” He broke off, and let out a soft, unhappy laugh. “It sounds dumb when I say it out loud.”

Allen swallowed his impatience, feeling the remaining vestiges of his anger and frustration with the other boy fading at his obvious distress. Instead he reached out and gently patted Lavi’s hand, giving his friend a soft, understanding smile. He wanted to be angry, certainly--but there was a time for grudges, and there was a time for sympathy and understanding. “Go ahead, I won’t think it’s stupid.”

Lavi smiled back, a little uncertainly. “Well, I...I guess I thought that what I had said to you was really unforgivable, and maybe that you didn’t want to talk to me again. I also felt kind of...alone. But I think I may have wanted to be alone.” He drew his hands in towards his chest. “I have no excuse for this, but...I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to think about what other people might think.” Something shattered a little in his expression. "What with my weakness, and the Bookman leaving me, I just...I couldn't handle it. I couldn't think about anything else." 

His eyebrows quirked up slightly, and he glanced over at Allen. “I didn’t realize that you might think that it was something you had done.”

Allen shrugged, retreating a little as well, needing the small amount of distance between them. “With the information I had, that was the conclusion I came to. But thank you for telling me. I feel like I have a much better grasp on the situation. I forgive you for acting like an ass.”

“...Yeah.” Lavi muttered absentmindedly, his expression still oddly troubled. 

Allen paused in picking up his tea cup, studying the befuddled expression for a second. After a moment, he said, “Lavi.”

“What?” The redhead jumped, obviously not expecting to be caught staring. 

“Is there something else you wanted to talk to me about?” Allen queried, leaning forward into Lavi’s space a little. His feeling proved to be correct, when Lavi’s eyebrows jumped up, and then lowered; surprise to sheepishness at being caught out. 

Lavi’s hands spasmed a little, before he folded the left one on top of the right one, obviously working to keep them still. The fact that he looked more nervous now than he had been earlier, talking about the past few weeks, was extremely telling. 

“Listen, Allen.” He began, “Are you still...you know, mad?”

Allen, for the second time in the conversation, paused very deliberately; then he forced his fingers to unclench from around his teacup. As mild as he could, he said, “You’re going to have to be more specific, Lavi.”

Lavi took a deep breath, and said very quickly, “You know, that comment I made about Mana. And how you didn’t know anything about real love.”

And all at once, the anger, the sadness, the sharp sting of betrayal that he’d been trying so hard to ignore, reared up all at once. It was an ugly jumble of thoughts and feelings, of pain that he hadn’t dared touch, lest he make some stupid decision because of it. It sat in his chest, roaring and furious...and Allen immediately forced it back down, forced it into the little pocket in his heart where it belonged. 

Was he still angry about that? Certainly. When someone treated Allen poorly, he didn’t care--he was a very flawed person, anyway. But when someone touched upon Mana, and Mana’s true love for Allen...well, that was an insult he simply couldn’t live with. 

But Lavi had been hurting badly when he’d said it, and that had caused him to lash out. For the sake of their living situation, and the sake of their friendship, Allen could push it aside. But...

He picked up the tea, took a light sip, and set it back down. Lavi was staring at him with very wide eyes, as though he realized just how close Allen had been to an nuclear meltdown. 

“I want you to understand exactly what you did before I answer.” Allen said quietly, pushing aside his mug so he could set his hands on the table in front of him. “There are only four people alive today who know about Mana, and who he truly was to me.” As he listed off the names, he counted on his fingers. “Master Cross, The Bookman, Link, and you. Do you know how many of those people I told willingly?”

Lavi shook his head slowly. 

Allen breathed in deeply, and then let it out, long and shuddering in his chest. “Link. I told him because I felt he deserved to know.” 

He hummed a little, not daring to look up at Lavi’s face. It was too personal, too raw; he wouldn’t be able to say this if he was looking Lavi in the eye. “So what I mean to say is that three people know something about me which they can use to hurt me very badly, which I was forced to entrust them with. And I was forced to trust that you would never use that knife against me.”

And there it was. Lavi flinched away as the idiom caught up with him, as he finally understood the image of Allen getting stabbed in the back with a knife he had given to Lavi himself. And it was because of this--because Lavi understood the gravity of what Allen was saying--that he could finally forgive him for it.

“So yes, just this once, I forgive you.” Allen said quietly, staring at his palms, lying open on the table. “But if you ever do it again...I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive that twice.”

Allen wasn’t looking at Lavi, but he could almost physically feel the weight of his stare. For a moment, Allen thought that he’d pushed too far, that Lavi was unwilling to accept that ultimatum. If Lavi couldn’t accept that, then they couldn’t be friends anymore, and that was a shame--but there were a lot of things Allen was willing to put with, and that wasn’t one of them. 

Then there was a great gust of air, a release of tension, and Lavi said, “I understand. Thank you for telling me.”

Relieved, Allen allowed himself to slump bonelessly in his chair. He just felt...tired. Not as tired as he had been yesterday (and his thoughts immediately shied away from that, from the implications of that), but still. Exhausted. 

“Also, um...do you think you could tell me where that librarian lives?” 

Lavi’s hesitant, hopeful query roused Allen from his momentary exhaustion. He lifted his head, feeling a little light-headed and a lot grateful when he saw the weak grin spreading across Lavi’s face. Then, he jumped into action, hurrying to write down the directions.

It looked like, despite everything that had happened, things were finally starting to look up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS FOR THOSE WHO DON'T WANT TO READ THE DEATH SCENE:
> 
> Chaoji gets fucking rekt by Lenalee because a) he poisoned Allen and b) he's been feeding information to Bao Lei, the leader of the Chinese group who's trying to seize control from Bak. Actually, Lenalee slits his throat. 
> 
> Also, in case anyone's been wondering: this chapter kind of marks the end of the super emotional stuff we've been having to slog through. If I had to, I'd label this as the end of part two. After this, there's going to be more action related and plot related stuff, thank god.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys long time no see lmao
> 
> Anyway, serious warning for y'all: Allen has a panic attack at the end of the chapter. I don't refer to it as such, but it is definitely a panic attack. If you want to skip it, go from "Allen finally" to the end.

Three days after Allen and Lavi reconciled, Kanda quietly, uncomfortably, told Allen to follow him up to the roof of their apartment. There was something shifty about his bearing which made the ex-exorcist feel a vague sense of unease, but he….trusted Kanda. Somewhat. Besides, they had been living together for the past week or so, and there had been plenty of chances for Kanda to kill him during that time. 

There was no reason to feel uneasy. No reason at all. 

Still, by the time they reached the wind-swept, graveled rooftop, Allen was feeling the soft bite of nerves in his stomach, and the sheen of sweat on his face wasn’t entirely because he had exhausted himself going up the stairs. He looked around uncomfortably, taking in the rustic German capital, dragging his clammy palm down his pant leg. 

“Beansprout.” Kanda’s voice was calm and belied no sense of anger or hatred. However, the strange tone of almost nervousness made Allen glance up quickly and squint at the samurai, who was absently swinging his wooden bokken around. 

Cautiously, Allen ventured, “Was there some reason you brought me here?” He barely managed to strip away any signs of his irritation at the cryptic nature of the whole thing. Still, some must have bled through, because Kanda squinted at him, as though trying to figure out whether or not he should be annoyed. 

Finally, the samurai said, “I’ve gotten tired of your attitude.” 

Allen blinked, a bit startled at the rather unceremonious segue. “Have you?”

Once again Kanda squinted at him, and very deliberately aimed the wooden bokken at Allen’s face, as though sighting down an arrow at a target. “How did you fight when your Innocence turned into a sword?”

Bemusement fading into confusion, Allen’s shoulders settled a little. “Um--what?”

When Kanda simply growled in response, impatient, Allen hurried to answer. He had a feeling that Kanda was trying to help him, but wasn’t entirely certain as to how he was going about it. “I...you know...fought?”

“With one arm, right?” Kanda said, his sword remaining pointed at Allen, unwavering. 

Immediately, Allen caught on, and felt something dark and heavy drop into his stomach. “That was--” He swallowed, looking away, and accidently caught sight of his empty sleeve, fluttering in the wind. “That was different.” 

“How?” Kanda immediately countered, finally letting his sword drop. Agitated, the swordsman shifted from foot to foot, as though restless. Allen had no idea what was causing his friend to be so strange--nor did he know why Kanda was bringing this up. It wasn’t Kanda’s way to...talk. About anything, really. Kanda’s problem-solving abilities had included ‘fuck the problem up as much as possible and hope it resolves itself’. 

“I had Crown Clown to compensate for me.” Allen said--but no, that wasn’t quite right. It was true that he’d had Crown Clown, covering him where his left arm once would have. But-- “And I mean...I always knew that I still had an arm.” He admitted softly, right hand absently fisting the empty white fabric that had once been his solid, real arm. “It never felt like I was missing an arm.”

There was a moment of perfect silence, where the wind was the only thing that moved between them. Hair swirled, eyes remained fastened on their targets, the earth turned beneath them, and then--

“That’s complete and utter bullshit.” 

Allen jerked up, staring at Kanda with outraged confusion, too stunned to even come up with a response. Kanda continued on blithely, steamrolling right over anything that Allen would have said anyway.

“There was a finder in my unit--his name was Baaz. He only had one arm and no Innocence, and he could fight just as damn well as the others on my team.” He finally lowered the sword, letting it rest at his hip as he spoke. “You’ve been sitting around moping because, what--you think you can’t fight anymore just because you’re missing an arm and an eye? You think you’re useless?” Kanda snarled. “If that puny ass finder could hold his own in a fight against a level 2 Akuma, then you can certainly stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself.” 

Allen couldn’t help it--he stared at Kanda, outrage fading into a numb sort of bemusement, because what? He--what? 

“What?” Allen said intelligently, too gobsmacked to come up with anything else.

“You heard me!” Kanda growled, slashing the air violently with his wooden bokken, looking as though he were about to leap across the roof and kill Allen. “Stop calling yourself useless or whatever, just because the war’s over and you can’t fucking fight anymore.”

Growing more and more frustrated as Kanda spoke, Allen turned away, clenching his fists against his sides. He heard what Kanda was saying, he did, but he didn’t see how it applied to him. His whole being was dedicated to the destruction of Akuma, his soul was forged from the ashes of a Noah, and his heart was barricaded from the rest of the world. And besides, even if he wanted to do something else, which he did, it was very likely he’d be spotted by Bao Lei’s men, and that would put Kanda and Lavi in danger.

“I don’t know how to do anything else, Kanda.” Allen said harshly. “All of the skills I’ve acquired over the years aren’t meant to be used in a peaceful setting.” 

Kanda snorted, loud and disgusted. “Yeah, and?” He growled. “I’m the exact same way, but you managed to find me a job.”

Allen shook his head and turned away, already done with the conversation. “No sane person is going to hire me to do physical labor. Besides the fact that I’ve got one arm, I’m still recovering from muscle atrophy. I will be for a while.” 

Kanda was silent for a moment, and Allen let out a soft sigh, before beginning to walk toward the door that would take him back down into the apartment. It had been wishful thinking on Kanda’s part that he’d thought he could change anything.

“Here’s what I don’t get.” The samurai said finally, just as Allen placed his hand on the doorknob. “Why are you so eager to give up?”

Allen froze. 

“When we were fighting, you used to go days without sleep.” Kanda observed, and judging by his tone his eyes were narrowed with a cross between confusion and anger. “You fought until your fucking arm started breaking down and now you’re just--” He let out an annoyed sound. “I don’t get it.”

“That’s not--” He turned around, feeling his defeat morph into something closer to panic. “Don’t--”

How was he supposed to tell Kanda that he hadn’t meant to survive the war? That he had meant to die at the hands of one of his enemies, and therefore hadn’t put any thought into his future survival? 

To Allen’s surprise, Kanda just shrugged off his stuttering attempts to defend himself, shaking his long, dark hair away from his face. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care what your reasoning is.” He lifted his bokken again, once more pointing it right between Allen’s eyes. “We’re going to spar now.”

The panic that had been building in Allen’s chest abruptly faded to deep shock. “H-Huh?”

Kanda adjusted his grip on the wooden sword, so his form was in the familiar stance. “Dodge, if you don’t want to fucking die.” 

“Wait!” Allen shouted, putting out one hand to stop Kanda--and then had to throw himself to the side to avoid getting skewered by the wooden bokken. Real panic bloomed in his stomach--what the fuck was Kanda thinking? “I can’t fight you Kanda, what are you--”

The next few seconds were a blur of movement, so fast that Allen could only watch as Kanda kicked him over and pointed the tip at his jugular. It was completely silent, the only sound Allen’s deep, gasping breaths. Kanda was staring down at him with dark, glittering eyes, something close to mockery in their onyx depths. 

“What,” Allen gasped out finally, propping himself up on his arm, and gritting his teeth when he realized that like this, he couldn’t shove the sword away from his neck. “Was that for?”

Kanda waited for only a second, before lowering the weapon and taking a step back, still saying nothing. Allen slowly rose to his feet, warily watching Kanda’s hands, in case he decided to attack again. 

Finally, the samurai spoke. “You’re going to learn how to fight with only one arm.”

Allen stared, incredulous. “Is--Is that what you wanted to do? This entire time?” He threw up his hand. “You didn’t think to just ask me, like a normal person?”

“You misunderstand.” Kanda said. “This isn’t for my benefit at all. You’ve got to get over that muscle atrophy, fast. Fighting me will help. Bao Lei isn’t just going to sit around and wait for you to get strong again before attacking.”

He looked away, biting his lip as he considered that. There really wasn’t a way to argue with that at all, and besides--if he could fight again, he wanted to be able to. There really wasn’t a reason to say no. “I...suppose we could spar together.”

“I _suppose_ ,” Kanda muttered, rolling his eyes so hard it looked almost physically painful. “Let’s go again, then.” 

\-----------

Several hours later, Lavi finally got home from work. He rolled into the kitchen, and immediately stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Allen and Kanda. 

“Um…”

“Don’t…” Allen said darkly, flopping his arm weakly in the general direction of the red-head. He was sprawled on the couch, his limbs heavy and jelly-like, too exhausted to attempt movement. “Don’t you say...a word.” He let his arm drop back to his chest and heaved a deep breath. “I need a nap.”

Kanda, sitting calmly at the table, just sipped his tea, his expression too artificially mild to be believable. There was something about his posture, or maybe the way he held his drink, that made it feel as though he were laughing at Allen. 

Lavi slowly stood and closed the door, before folding his wheelchair and hanging it up on the back of the door (the science department had designed a set of hooks for the them, making storage easy). Then he settled at the table, rubbing his temples, as though just being in the room with the other two was giving him a headache. 

Finally, he said, “Is this a problem? Should I be worried?”

“Yes.” Allen said quickly, the same time Kanda said, “No.”

The two glared at each other, the air crackling with tension. Allen backed down first, though, too tired to maintain any sort of anger against the stupid samurai. He sighed, and threw his arm over his face, covering his eyes. 

Then, as though only just remembering, Allen perked up, pushing himself up onto his elbow so he could see Lavi properly. “Wait, you had your first day of work today, right?” He sat up fully, face open and bright. “How did it go?”

Lavi paused for a second, as though he’d really like to continue interrogating Allen about what had put the others in such a foul mood, but then visibly decided against it. Instead he began tapping the table absentmindedly, eye thoughtful. “Mr. Heminger is...an interesting person.”

Allen nodded, while Kanda looked on in interest, being the only person who had never actually met Lavi’s new boss. Of course he was far too proud to actually ask, and remained silent. 

“He said that my being in a wheelchair shouldn’t be a problem, especially since I’ll need it less and less as I get stronger.” Lavi continued, then grimaced lightly. “For the time being he just has me doing paperwork, since it’s relatively light work.” 

Knowing that Lavi would be disappointed with the grunt work--he was a researcher, and surely just sitting around reading files was boring as hell--Allen smiled sympathetically. “I’m sure he’ll give you something more interesting soon. Your mind is wasted on paperwork.”

Lavi glanced over at Allen, his expression almost...puzzled, as though Allen had said something very strange. As his friend stared at him, Allen’s smile faded, starting to wonder if he really had said something that strange. He didn’t think that he’d had, but...maybe, with their friendship still raw around the edges, still recovering from their argument, Lavi wanted space. His eyes nervously darted over to Kanda, looking for some indication of a misstep, but there was no change--except for perhaps a sharpening of his focus. 

Just as the atmosphere was beginning to go from nervous to uncomfortable, Lavi sighed and smiled a little, though it was small and tired. “You know, Allen, you don’t have to--” He breathed out heavily through his nose. “You don’t--” He broke off again, shaking his head. 

Now bewildered and vaguely concerned by this sudden shift, Allen looked between Lavi and Kanda, trying to figure out what was going on. Helplessness spread throughout him, choking him, and anxiety answered in kind. What had he done now? 

Then Kanda, seeming to take pity on the two of them, lowered his tea and sighed gustily. “You’re both idiots.” He said, and then turned to address Allen. “That fake attitude? Knock that shit off, it’s freaking the rabbit out.” Then he turned to Lavi. “And you! The explanation was fucking lacking, you piece of shit.” 

The two stared at Kanda, gobsmacked; it was so silent you could not only hear a pin drop, that pin would sound like the crash of thunder. Seemingly unaware of the mental break he had just caused, Kanda picked up his teacup again. 

“K-Kanda….” Allen stuttered. Normally he would’ve been responding to the ‘fake attitude’ comment, but he was too startled by the fact that Kanda had translated their awkward fumbling. And accurately, at that. 

“Who are you and what have you done with Kanda Yuu?” Lavi demanded. “Did you just--”

“Leave me alone!” Kanda shouted, and just like that the teacup shattered in his hand. He jumped to his feet, apparently uncaring of the ceramic shards decorating his skin. His face was beginning to turn a remarkable shade of red, and he leapt to his feet. “I shouldn't have said a damn thing! Don't blow it up!” 

Something burbled from the base of Allen’s throat, something light and airy--and just like that a quiet, breathy laugh escaped him. And once he started, he couldn’t stop, giggles curling out from behind his fingers, tentative and rusty. 

In that moment, Allen missed the startled yet pleased look that passed between Kanda and Lavi.

“Oh,” Kanda quickly interjected as Allen’s laughter died down, as though determined to ignore the lapse of his usual grumpy attitude, “Beansprout. Miriam wants you to call her on Saturday so she can give Komui an update.”

Allen’s pleased expression abruptly morphed into confused. “Of course, but how did you even find out about that? Did she get in contact with you somehow?”

“She called my work.” Kanda said, shrugging, seemingly unperturbed by the fact that she already knew where he worked, even after just getting the job. Lavi and Allen exchanged a concerned glance. 

There was just something...off, about the Crow. She seemed helpful, but...

\-----------------------------------------

Saturday morning, Allen woke to the sunlight pouring past his curtains and right into his face, burning into his sensitive, blinking eye. He rolled toward the wall, away from the rays, and stared at the white paint, for a moment simply appreciating the ability to wake up in a location that wasn’t a war zone. It was so….peaceful, here. Waking up during the war had always been an exercise in nerves--where would he wake up? How long had it been since Neah had taken over, and what damage had he done in that time?

It didn’t matter any more. Neah was dead, and the war was over, had been over for more than half a year. He had no more reason to worry, now that his mind was no longer trying to tear him apart from the inside out. And yet, the memory was still strong, still fresh, even after all these months; it made mornings like this seem so much more precious. 

Allen sighed softly, watched as the dust motes swirled like snowflakes in the air, illuminated by the sun. _When all this blows over,_ He thought sleepily, _I wouldn’t mind coming back to live in Berlin._

If Bao Lei let him live that long. 

With that Allen sighed, rolled over, and got out of bed. 

Lavi wasn’t awake yet--he didn’t have to go to work until much later--but Kanda was already up and sitting at the table, slowly polishing off a cup of green tea. His hair floated loose around his bare shoulders and down his back, illuminated gold by the same light that had lit Allen’s room that morning. His eyes were far away and unexpectedly peaceful as he stared, lost in thought, into the distance. 

Allen squinted at him, suddenly certain that the samurai had more tea in his veins than blood. Was it healthy to drink that much tea all the time? 

Kanda must have felt his stare, because his gaze sharpened and he abruptly whipped around to look at Allen, face dark and belligerent. They regarded each other for a moment, before Kanda demanded, “What’s your fucking problem, beansprout?” 

Instead of sharing his thoughts, Allen _ched_ and responded, “My biggest problem is that I have to see your ugly face in the morning.” 

The first time this had happened, Kanda had actually done a double take, so stunned was he by Allen’s uncharacteristic grumpiness. However he had long since gotten used to ‘Allen before eight’, and knew better than to get offended by it. Not because he wasn’t offended by it, but because the last time Kanda had reacted he had walked away with a bloody nose and a limp for the next few hours. 

So he just snorted and let the comment slide, ducking his head into his tea mug instead. After a brief pause, in which Allen shuffled over to the loaf of bread on the counter for some breakfast, Kanda looked up and said, “You remember you’re calling the Crow today at 11?”

Allen sighed deeply as he cut off a few slices of bread. “She has a name, you know. In case you’ve forgotten.”

“Shut the fuck up. Why are you such an annoyance?” Kanda growled. He tossed his bangs away from his face, finished off the tea, and got to his feet. As he began putting his hair into its customary ponytail, he tossed an aside to Allen. “I’m leaving. Try not to get killed, or something.”

_Try not to get killed or something,_ Allen mocked silently in response, earning an eyeroll from his friend, before saying out loud, _“Itterashai.”_ *

It took a second for that to register, but when it did, Kanda turned around and stared at Allen, as though he had never seen anything so strange in his life. He blinked at him once, twice--

And then headed very quickly toward the door, as though bolting for safety. 

Amused, Allen chuckled softly--if he had known saying that would cause such a reaction, he would have done so much earlier--and finished up making his bread and cheese sandwich. 

Because the library didn’t open until nine--Henry’s age unfortunately kept him from starting any earlier--Lavi tended to sleep in until eight, meaning it would be another hour before he woke up. Any other circumstances and Allen would’ve been surprised by this unexpected laziness; during the war Lavi had woken up at six or earlier, to try and get some extra work in before the start of the day. However, Allen knew that Lavi often spent an hour or more on his physical exercises during the nighttime, pushing back his bedtime and exhausting him.

It was dangerous to Lavi’s health, and something would need to be said about it. But that was a confrontation for another time. 

Allen polished off his third sandwich, and barely managed to restrain himself from making another two (they didn’t have enough money to fund his eating habits, dammit). He tucked his coat around his shoulders, plucked his wheelchair from the hook, and opened the door. 

Gladdice, their ever friendly, ever nosy neighbor, was peering into the hall with her enormous, beady eyes. As she stared him down with her laser focused gaze, Allen nodded politely, trying not to convey how freaked out he was by this portly, ancient woman. Lavi had surmised that she was probably an undercover assassin, and it spoke volumes that neither Kanda nor Allen argued with him. 

Predictably, she slammed the door. Allen winced slightly, before continuing down the hall. 

The sun sat heavy over the horizon, still too early to be anything more than a big, bright decoration in the sky. The smell of the morning dew drifted in along with all the other scents of the city, and Allen just took a second to breath it all in, enjoying the slight chill of the air. This was his favorite time of day--when the sun had only risen a few hours ago, and night still clung to the city like a grasping child. 

Then he unfolded his chair, carefully settled into it, and rolled down the street toward the local market. Another reason this was his favorite time of day--the market was only just now setting up, which meant that there were few people, and all the best produce was his for the taking. Maybe it was a little selfish of him, only thinking of his stomach, but he had just fought in a war, dammit. He deserved a little luxury once in awhile. 

(It was pure coincidence that there were less people outside at this time, less people to stare at him and whisper about him like he was some sort of disease incarnate.) 

After he finished buying what he wanted (he couldn’t wait to see Lavi and Kanda’s face when they realized he’d brought home a steak for them to share), he went down to the river. Generally this was the only time Allen ever got out of the apartment--stairs were such a challenge these days, he could really only make one trip up and down them--so he liked to make the most of his time. The river was something he could stare at for ages, alone with his thoughts. 

However today things were going to be a little different; after all, he was the one tasked with calling Miriam. So he pulled a small, dog-eared paperback fantasy from his backpack, flipped to his most recent stopping point, and settled in to wait.

When 11 came around, Allen closed his book and put it back in his bag. Then he removed the transmitter from his pocket, and took a second to examine its smooth, round features. It was a dull, matte black, and about the size of a marble, perfect for concealing in his clothes. After glancing around to check for passersby, Allen pressed down on a button to activate the tiny machine. There was a few seconds delay as it booted up, before four brightly colored circles appeared on its surface.

Allen carefully touched the blue circle, and waited for the call to connect. 

“Allen Walker, thank you for calling.” Miriam said cheerfully the moment she picked up. 

“Hello Miriam.” Allen responded smoothly, feeling a little silly talking to a small, black ball. “I trust you’ve been well?”

“Peachy.” She said, though there was a wicked note in her voice that implied that there was a bit more to it than that. However, since she neglected to elaborate, Allen figured it was none of his business. “Have you and Lavi made up yet?”

Allen winced at that, embarrassed that his and Lavi’s argument had been so obvious, even to a complete stranger. He wasn’t entirely sure that they were okay yet, either--their conversations were still awkward and stilted, as they tried to figure out their still tender friendship. At the very least it was better than it’d been a week ago, when they couldn’t even be in the same room together. 

Eventually he decided on, “It’s...getting there.”

Miriam laughed a little, her voice tinny through the tiny speakers. “That’s better than nothing, I suppose. Every friendship has its ups and its downs.”

Allen almost thought about disagreeing--about explaining to her that no, several weeks of not speaking to each other was not normal--but held his tongue. He wasn't really interested in pursuing the topic, especially with someone who was essentially a complete stranger. He cleared his throat, mentally tip-toed over the subject, and said, “Both Kanda and Lavi have found work.” Then, realizing that she might not approve, he quickly added, “We weren't entirely sure how long we'd be staying here, but…”

“No, that was a good idea.” Miriam sounded pleasantly surprised. “I wouldn't want you guys to trap yourselves in the apartment. That's a good way to keep active over the next few weeks.”

There was a heavy pause.

“So it's...looking like it's going to be for that long, huh.” Allen muttered. It wasn't a question.

“Perhaps longer.” Miriam responded, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We've decided to keep you there until Bao Lei has been neutralized. It's the safest option.”

“Until she's been--” Allen broke off. His barely maintained calm, which had been shaky enough as it was, shattered. “That could take years! We can't stay here that long!”

“Is Berlin really so bad?” Miriam responded lightly. 

And the truth was that--

It wasn't. Berlin was fine, Berlin was a beautiful city with beautiful sights. If Allen was any other person, with any other past, he would quite liked to have lived in Berlin. It wasn't the city itself which was the problem.

The problem was that, despite the fact that it was for their protection, and despite the fact that it was quite nice, Berlin was a prison. Allen had allowed them to put him here because it was a cage he had given consent to--nevertheless, it was still a cage. He wanted to travel; he wanted to see new places, discover the world without the war nipping at his heels. And now--

He had sworn that he wasn’t going to hide anymore.

“This was only supposed to be until we got the mole out of headquarters.” Allen growled into the machine, feeling his temper beginning to slip. “Why have you--” He stopped, looked away for a moment to regain some composure; this wasn't Miriam's decision, nor was it her fault. Something clenched around his lungs, making it hard to breath. “....they….decided to change their minds?”

For a second Miriam didn’t respond; the only indication that she was still in the call was the blinking of the blue call button. He almost wondered if she was debating leaving the conversation entirely. Then she said, serious for the first time, “Allen, the truth is that Bao Lei is far more determined than we realized.”

He sat back in the chair, unable to process this vague statement. “Explain.” 

“We found the mole closest to Komui, the one who poisoned you.” Miriam said, her voice devastating in its quietness. “I'm sorry, but I can't tell you who it was.”

Allen remained silent. He didn't care who it was, as long as they were no longer able to hurt anyone.

She took the lack of response as a que to continue. “There are several more hidden in the Black Order, and we’re slowly but surely weeding them out. However, while we've been distracted by them, Bao Lei has been unraveling our influence elsewhere. You're safe in Europe--this is our domain. But if you were to leave now…” There was some rustling noises over the connection; probably a shrug. “Komui wants me nearby.”

Allen felt cold.

He had thought that they’d be here for a few months, at the most. He had assumed this not based on any actual information, but because he simply didn’t want to imagine staying for any longer. As long as he was here, he was powerless. He had no way to fight back against the people slandering his name, and no easy way to keep aware of the situation. It was nerve-wracking, especially for a person who had, for several months, been trapped in their own head. 

He was terrified. 

“Thank you for letting me know.” He said blankly. There was an odd buzzing in his ears; Miriam’s voice was audible, but no words were actually discernible. It was a bit of a relief; he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear any more of what she had to say. His numb fingers fumbled with the red button, and the call was terminated. 

Allen stared at the little black marble for a moment, watching as the lights dimmed with a sense of detachment. Then, he turned his chair around, and wheeled back up the hill. 

The ride back to the apartment was a blur; looking back, he would barely be able to remember it, so out of his head was he. He noticed the concerned stares he was getting from other people, but did not react to them; he noticed the fine weather, but was unable to enjoy it. For that brief time he existed only in the barest sense, devoid of anything other than the need to get home. 

He mechanically folded up his chair--

Walked up the stairs--

Entered the apartment--

Lavi and Kanda were at the table, eating lunch. Kanda had clearly just gotten back from a shift on the farm; his face was damp and a smudge of dirt crested over his eye. Lavi was hovering over a something, his face in a thoughtful frown; probably something from work he had thought looked interesting and decided to do some extra research on. They both had sandwiches; probably cheese and some sort of meat. 

The looked up simultaneously when Allen entered, quickly catching sight of the horrible, devoid expression on his face. 

“Allen?” Lavi asked, putting down his pencil. 

Allen finally-- _finally_ \--allowed himself to crumple on his shaky legs, the wheelchair clattering on the floor next to him. Air rushed from him, into him, too fast, too fast--he felt light-headed and dizzy, as though he were about to pass out. 

Urgent hands forced his head between his knees, and a calm, soothing voice pierced the absolute panic. “Come on, Allen, come on. Breath in for me, nice and slow, breathe out…” 

He tried to do as he was ordered, and managed a huge, shuddering gasp that ended in a harsh stutter. The voice seemed unphased, simply ordered him to take another breath, and another, to breathe slow, nice and slow--

Allen grasped the shreds of his control, and whispered, “We’re trapped here.”

The voice paused in the middle of telling him to breathe out. “What was that?”

He looked up, and found Lavi’s face, grey meeting surprised green. There was a pressure on his neck that he hadn’t noticed at first--Kanda had apparently been the one to shove his head down. If he had been feeling less likely to shake apart, he would’ve been surprised and grateful about this. As it was-- “We escaped one cage. Now we’re trapped in another. I don’t--I--”

He couldn’t continue. Kanda’s hand pressed his head back down, and this time Allen let it happen. 

They stayed like that for a long time, every one of them feeling utterly helpless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Itterashai means 'go and come back'. The reason that Kanda finds this so odd is because it's kind of super domestic in Japan, like a mom telling their kid to come back safely when they're leaving for school. 
> 
> I've been going back through some earlier chapters and realized that sometimes I said things that were probably definitely offensive to some people, so I added a couple warnings in the tags. When school gets a little less busy, I'll probably go back and edit those parts so they're a little more sensitive. but seriously, I'm sorry if it offended anyone.
> 
> Meanwhile, if you all personally see something offensive yourselves, tell me. I won't get offended, I understand that some of the material here can get a little heavy.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao sorry for the delay guys
> 
> i finished the last chapter and went 'fuck what the fuck am i supposed to do now whut'
> 
> anyway here have some plot for y'alls reading pleasure
> 
> also in case you were wondering there's a random but necessary POV switch from Allen to Lavi

Allen spent the next few days taking his foul mood out on Kanda when they sparred--or well, he tried to. After all, the samurai didn’t have muscle atrophy, and was not missing a limb, so he had a strong advantage. Even so, exhausting himself trying to beat the shit out of his friend was more therapeutic than he thought it would be. 

The other two took the news far better than Allen had--Lavi outright admitted that he wasn’t surprised by the fact that they would be stuck in Berlin much longer than they had originally assumed. Kanda was more annoyed by the fact that they hadn’t been informed of this until after they’d already settled in--he hated surprises. 

Bitterly, Allen supposed that the reason for his panic attack was because of past trauma; lucky him. 

It was just--the other two didn’t understand what it had been like, being an unwilling host of a Noah; they didn’t understand the complete loss of autonomy. They didn’t know what it felt like to wake up in a completely different place than you’d gone to sleep, hands covered in blood, body aching. That loss of control, that feeling of free-fall with no bottom in sight--that felt far too much like this. Allen needed control of all aspects of himself, more than he’d needed anything else in his life. 

He...was not going to get his wish, he knew that. The Black Order could not afford to cater to his trauma, not when the war was still continuing, albeit a different battleground. 

But for now, he was determined to ignore that. It was especially easy to ignore right now, slaving over a crossword puzzle, Kanda and Lavi bickering loudly over his head...

“You’re wrong, you know that, right? You’re absolutely full of bullshit.” 

Deep in thought, Allen trapped his tongue between his front teeth, turning the crossword puzzle and squinting at it, deeply. Maybe if he looked at it from a different angle, he could figure out what that word was…

“I’m wrong?” Kanda scoffed, glaring down Lavi with a rather ferocious look. If it had been anyone else, they would have cowered in fear before it. As it was, Lavi was far too used to dealing with Kanda’s foul moods to be affected. “You’re definitely mistaken, you stupid rabbit. I was not defeated by that fucking Noah, I defeated him but the gate closed before I could go through--”

Allen’s eyebrow twitched as the voices in the background increased in volume, but gritted his teeth and soldiered on, determined to ignore it. He only had a couple more words left--if he could just figure them out…!

“That counts as losing Kanda! Defeating the enemy but not coming back definitely counts as losing!” Lavi shook his head, aggravated by the argument. He sighed and sat back in his chair, staring across the table mulishly. 

Allen filled in a letter--there just had to be an e there…

Kanda gestured widely with his hands, obviously as done with the argument as Lavi was. “It counts as winning if I win, fucking--”

“Can you two keep it down a little?” Allen demanded, throwing his pen down on the newspaper, irritated almost beyond words. He sat back and folded his arm across his chest, knowing that it didn’t quite have the effect he was going for, but not caring in the slightest. “I am trying to finish this crossword puzzle, thank you, and your--screaming--is very distracting!” 

The two men glanced at each other, disgust etched into their expressions--but then Lavi let out a soft noise, and leaned forward. There was a suspicious gleam in his eyes, a triumphant one, which made Kanda shift a little in his seat. Allen huffed softly, amused--clearly, Kanda sensed that defeat was near. 

“Don’t you agree, Allen?” Lavi asked, grinning a little. “That if you defeat an enemy but die in the process, that isn't winning?”

\----

Allen glanced between the two of them, bemused--and then recognition dawned in his eyes, and he sat back, scowling deeply. “Nu-uh, no way. I’m not getting involved in this.” His chin jerked a little. “Besides, when have we ever been in that kind of situation? Why is that relevant?”

Lavi rolled his eyes at Allen, just barely resisting the urge to smack the other exorcist over the back of the head. _Not everyone has photographic memory,_ he reminded himself, as the fight in question played overtop of Allen’s vaguely annoyed expression in his mind. 

If he had looked at Kanda, however--if he’d thought to glance over--

He would’ve noticed the ex-samurai tense.

“When Kanda was fighting that sweet-tooth Noah.” Lavi explained impatiently, eager to get back to the topic at hand. “Anyway, we need someone--”

“Wait, slow down.” Allen frowned, eye growing distant and a little unfocused as he thought. As the silence persisted, Lavi's lips turned downward slightly, letting his joking manner fade. There was something else going on here, something that he didn’t understand. Why was Allen looking at them like that, like he was a million miles away? 

The pause lengthened, stretched, strained, and then--

He shook his head slowly, furrowing his eyebrows at the ground. “I...don’t remember Kanda fighting a sweet-tooth Noah. When was this?”

Kanda stepped in before Lavi could say anything, his expression hooded and dark, and a little...sad? “Do you remember fighting on the Noah’s Ark?”

Lavi glanced at him sharply, but said nothing. It was an odd question, though--how could Allen forget? That had been a major turning point of the war. 

“Fighting on--” A shudder rippled through Allen’s shoulders, and somehow his gaze became a little more vacant. “Couldn’t I always control the…” But his voice trailed off before he could finish that thought, and he began blinking rapidly, strangely. The pen dropped from his limp fingers. 

Finally, Lavi couldn’t control himself any longer. He leaned into Kanda’s space and whispered, “Kanda?”

Kanda che’d softly, jerking his chin in Lavi’s direction, a silent _We’ll talk about it later_. He rose from his chair and made his way over to Allen’s side, carefully taking one shoulder and guiding the distracted exorcist down so he could lie on his back. Allen was strangely docile as all this occurred, eyelids fluttering and jerking, seemingly too lost in his own mind to protest. 

Lavi watched this process, bemused at the softness Kanda was showing the other exorcist, the one he’d so claimed to hate. But the ex-samurai’s hands were gentle on Allen’s shoulder, and the way Kanda looked at the younger boy was so infinitely sad, it made Lavi’s insides ache. There was something here he wasn’t seeing, something that he hadn’t been informed of--something that Kanda, apparently, already knew. 

The several weeks when he and Allen hadn’t been speaking suddenly felt that much more vast. Guilt, familiar but unwelcome, curled up in the hollow below his throat. 

Kanda turned away from Allen, closing his eyes and pressing his lips together, as though composing himself. Then he sighed and rose from his crouch, slowly making his way back over to the table, looking almost three times his age. 

Lavi waited for the samurai to speak, not wanting to push, lest Kanda clam up completely. 

Kanda stared into his tea for a second, his gaze almost as distant as Allen’s had been. But then he realized that Lavi was staring at him, and his shoulders tensed abruptly. 

“What?” Kanda barked finally, glaring at Lavi. 

“Don’t give me that.” Lavi responded, fixing Kanda with a hard look. “What was that? Why is he…” He looked over, and grimaced a little at Allen’s face. The boy was pale as a sheet, eyelid flickering madly, his lips mouthing something that probably no one in the house could interpret. He looked, in a word, terrible. 

He looked back at Kanda, and met a hard, unflinching wall. 

Lavi shook his head impatiently, frustration bubbling up in his chest like acid. He was tired of keeping secrets from the others, and once more he felt a soft pang of grief for The Bookman. While their job had been tedious and difficult, their relationship had been easy--they trusted each other completely, full stop. There had been no place for secrets between them, not like this strained household, bursting with words unsaid. “Listen, if this is going to be a problem, I need to know about it. I need to know why it happens, and how to help him.”

Kanda opened his mouth, expression twisted, like he was going to say something angry--

And then he closed it, slowly, and let his fingers wrap around his tea cup. 

“...I don’t like the idea of telling you this behind his back.” He said quietly, his eyes hooded and dark. “But I can’t see him telling you on his own, and you need to know.”

Lavi acknowledged the little sting of hurt that caused, and then let it slip by. He had come to terms with the fact that while they were getting better, they were still not as close as they had been. He folded his arms in front of him, settling in for a long talk. 

“I don’t really understand it myself.” Kanda began, drawing his thumb along the rim of the teacup, dispersing the droplets that had gathered there. “What I do know is that the Noah, when it was inside of him...it won because it made him forget who he was.”

Lavi drew back at that, feeling his heart drop into his shoes. “So--so you’re saying--”

Kanda nodded, confirming that horrible statement with a dark, unforgiving look. For once, though, Lavi knew that Kanda wasn’t angry with him. “That bastard made the beansprout forget he was an exorcist, and...and everything else he had ever been through.”

Lavi sat back in his seat, digesting this information with no small amount of horror. He hadn’t been there for the trial, so he hadn’t known what Allen had gone through while he had been separated from the Order. But this--he didn’t need to look at Kanda to know that the process had been slow, Allen had known about it, and similarly known that there was no way he could have fought it. Allen was too strong--there was no way he would’ve gone down without fighting every single step of the way. 

“I...see.” Lavi murmured, pushing away thoughts of the anguish Allen must have felt about his slow, inescapable fall. Then his gaze sharpened. “So then...there are just memories that he...what, didn’t get back?”

Kanda grimaced. “Not...exactly. It’s a bit more complicated than that. I don’t understand what he means, but...apparently, the Noah hadn’t destroyed his memories. He’d just...taken them away?” Kanda wrinkled his nose. 

“He stole Allen’s memories and kept them from him.” Lavi whispered in awe, unsure of how to feel about that. “I hadn’t even realized that was possible, but then again, the science of the soul is still so new--”

He broke off when he realized that Kanda was glaring at him. “Not….” He laughed nervously, realizing that he’d just gone off on a crazy tangent. “Not that I’m getting any ideas!” It was an interesting thought though…

“You'd better not be.” Kanda growled, then waved a hand dismissively. “But the point is, when the Noah left, he didn’t just give the brat’s memories back. They basically got thrown all over his soul, in random directions.”

“And Allen has trouble finding them.” Lavi gasped quietly, now more excited than he had been before. He immediately began making a bunch of mental notes, so he could write them down later--this was all so interesting! This was a completely new field of study, untouched by anyone else--the things they could discover--

“It’s rare when he forgets people, or entire battles.” Kanda was saying, causing Lavi to break off from his mental tangent. He focused back on the conversation, aware that Kanda wouldn’t appreciate his distraction. “He forgets names more often, or little things.”

“So…” Lavi tilted his head. “Anything after the Noah leaving, he’s fine with that, right?”

Kanda nodded, his lips curling in disgust. “He remembers the names of every single little old lady in town. It’s disgusting.”

“It’s not disgusting,” A sleepy voice interjected behind them. The other two turned around, finding Allen sat up on the couch, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “It’s called being polite, Bakanda.”

For a second, they all stared at each other, frozen; Kanda impassive, Allen blinking tiredly at them, Lavi looking nervously over at him. Then Allen sighed quietly and got up, leaning over to pick up the pen on the floor as he did so. There was an exhaustion about him, an air of weariness that sunk into the room, tainting the whole atmosphere. 

“He needed to know it.” Allen said finally, and Lavi relaxed. 

“You’re damn right he did.” Kanda growled in response, scowling at their roommate, though it didn’t feel as genuine as usual. “How do you think he felt, watching you pass out like that?”

Allen shrugged half-heartedly, frowning down at the pen like it had caused him a personal offense. After a second he said, “I’m sorry if my...episode...caused you any distress. I didn’t…” He shrugged again. “If it happens again, just sit me down somewhere. I can’t really do anything about it.”

Lavi was speechless for a moment, staring at his friend, who was hunched over, like he was preparing to get yelled at. Yelled at for--what, for having a mental episode due to his psyche getting destroyed by a psychopathic Noah? 

“Allen…” Lavi said softly. “I’m not--I’m not mad about your episode. I wish you had told me earlier, but I…” He looked away, regretful. “I suppose we didn’t have the opportunity to talk about it before. That was my fault.”

“You’re not the only one at fault.” Allen said firmly, quickly. Lavi looked back up at him, a little surprised by the steel in Allen’s voice, considering how defeated he’d sounded earlier. “I...should’ve been able to tell that something else was bothering you. No--I knew something else was bothering you, but I didn’t ask.” He took a deep breath, and said, “I’m sorry, too.”

Lavi stared at Allen, a little gobsmacked. He hadn’t been expecting an apology from Allen, considering that he had been the one to cause their divide in the first place. But now that he’d gotten one, now that he _had_ one, he felt some bitter, angry part of himself ease ever so slightly. Because it hadn’t just been Lavi; it had been Allen too. Ignoring each other was so much easier when the other person was willing to participate. 

Lavi smiled unexpectedly. He hadn’t known he’d needed that until he’d gotten it. “Thank you, Allen. And I forgive you.” 

They stared at each other for a second, simply smiling; for once, there was no tension in the air whatsoever. Not even the weird kind, which had permeated their house for the past few days as Allen and Lavi’s friendship shifted to try and fit in its new mold. 

“That’s nice and all.” Kanda growled, his nose wrinkled like he was smelling something foul, “But we need to talk.”

And just like that the happy bubble popped. 

Allen and Lavi turned to look at the ex-samurai, expressions twin pictures of confusion. 

“What do we need to talk about?” Allen asked, slowly sitting back down on the couch he’d just vacated.

Kanda took an almost imperceptible breath, fingers tightening around his tea cup. For the first time, Lavi realized that he looked...nervous, almost. High-strung. Lavi wondered if maybe Kanda had been picking fights earlier not because he’d actually had any sort of opinion on the subject, but because he’d been looking for a fight. That sounded like him. 

“The flu is going around at work.” 

Allen and Lavi glanced at each other, confused. Why should that possibly--

Then Lavi sucked in a sharp gasp, leaning away from Kanda, feeling a bit faint. Because healthy people could handle the flu; healthy people would have almost no problem fighting it off. But two people whose immune systems had already been weakened by muscle atrophy…

Allen glanced between the two of them, not understanding. “What is it?” He demanded, clearly sensing the gravity of the situation, even if he didn’t quite get it. “The flu is dangerous, but no unmanageable."

“Do you think you and I can really afford to get sick right now?” Lavi asked, rubbing his face with his hands--and then he promptly set them down, resisting the urge to pour boiling water on them. Just in case there was any unwanted viruses. 

“The rabbit is right.” Kanda said heavily. “Right now the flu would be dangerous. For you especially.” He nodded in Lavi’s direction. “From now on I’m going to start wearing a mask at home. If I get sick, which I might,” He glared at the two of them threateningly, “Then I want you two to lock me in a bedroom until I get better.”

Allen looked incredulous. “You want us to--to quarantine you?” 

“It’s the smartest option.” Lavi said thoughtfully, forcing his fingers to drum against the table, rather than cradle his face. “As long as we supply him with fresh water, food, and ice packs, he should be okay.” 

Judging by the mulish expression on Allen’s face, he disagreed. 

“Listen,” Kanda growled, rising from his seat a little bit in a show of intimidation. “I don’t need someone mother henning me when I’m sick. If I get it, which I haven’t yet, then it’ll probably only last a week, at the most.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Allen responded calmly, though it was obvious that he was beginning to lose his temper. Kanda had this way of pissing him off without even trying, really. It was an incredible thing to watch. “The flu is dangerous, even to normal people. It needs to be monitored, just in case.”

Even Lavi felt a little skeptical about that, but sat back and let Kanda handle it. If it got really out of hand he’d interject something, but right now he was interested to see how the samurai would respond. 

“Do I look like I’d let some little disease kill me?” Kanda scoffed. Which, typical. 

Allen seemed to agree with Lavi, because he rolled his eyes at Kanda. “I’ve seen it kill a twenty-year-old acrobat who’s never gotten sick in his life, so.” 

That made them all pause. 

“What?” Asked Lavi.

“What?” Allen asked in response. 

“When did you--how many acrobats do you know?” Kanda demanded, looking absolutely incensed. “Didn’t that stupid bastard raise you?”

“I grew up in a circus!” Allen looked defensive, almost a little regretful, as he spoke. Almost like he hadn’t meant to say that at all. “There was one time a flu hit the camp, and--” He shook his head. “It killed three people. They were all incredibly healthy beforehand, and after they just...”

That drove them all back into silence for a second, as they digested what they had just been told. Kanda looked as though he’d just swallowed a lemon, his mouth twisted up in a fierce grimace. Meanwhile, Lavi carefully stowed the tidbit in the folder in his mind labeled Allen Walker. It was extremely rare when Allen actually talked about his past willingly. 

But more to the point...

“Actually,” Lavi said slowly, catching the other two’s attention, “I also agree with Allen on this point.” He fixed the other teen with a glare before he could get too triumphant. “But we also can’t afford to get sick at this point.” 

“So what do you recommend?” Allen asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. 

Lavi thought for a moment, chewing his bottom lip between his teeth. There was a lot of danger to consider here; neither he nor Allen could afford to get sick right now, but neither could they afford to leave Kanda alone. As much as he’d like to say ‘quarantine him and give him a few days to get over his sickness’...

“We...we quarantine him, as planned.” Lavi began. 

“I don’t get a say in this?” Kanda demanded. “I’m the theoretically ill person in this situation--”

Allen shushed the samurai quickly. 

“And then we check up on him, twice a day, wearing disposable masks and gloves.” Lavi continued, content to ignore the interjection. “That way, we avoid the risk of getting sick, but we can still check up on him. There is still some risk, but…”

“It’s better than nothing.” Allen muttered firmly, clenching his fist on his pant legs. 

Only then did Lavi turn to Kanda, whose annoyed expression had faded into blank neutrality over the past few seconds. They observed each other for a second, the moment feeling oddly...weighty. 

“Does his majesty approve?” Lavi asked dryly. 

“Che.” Kanda muttered. “I still think I don’t need a babysitter.”

Exasperated with the samurai’s surly attitude, Lavi rolled his eyes. “Your opinion has been duly noted.” 

\---------------------------------

Several days later, Allen walked into the kitchen, his arm laden with his wheelchair and groceries. After having daily fights with Kanda his muscle strength was improving a lot; he had only needed to take one break on the stairs today, rather than two. So he was feeling rather good about himself when he walked in on the Bookman Jr. hunched over the table, hair a red curtain around his folded arms. 

Allen paused in the doorway a second, before nudging the wheelchair against the wall and shutting the door behind him. He made his way deeper into the house, watching his friend, bemused.

“Lavi?” He asked curiously, putting away the milk into the icebox. The odd silence, the heavy tension, was beginning to make him a little nervous. “Is something the matter?”

Lavi didn’t respond for a second, but his breath did hitch oddly in his throat, like he was trying not to choke on something. Or like he was trying desperately not to cry. 

Gentler now but with considerable more urgency--something was definitely wrong--Allen sank into the chair next to his friend. He laid his hand on Lavi’s shoulder, struggling to find the right words to say to him. 

He was saved from this struggle by a piece of paper--a telegram?--being slid wordlessly across the table toward him. He paused for a second, surprised by the strange behavior, but obligingly picked up the paper and read it over. 

It took a second for the words to process, but--

“No.” Allen gasped softly, a terrible pit opening up in his gut. He turned toward the redhead, throwing one arm around his friend's shoulders. Lavi didn't even seem to notice it. “No, Lavi--”

“Yes.” Lavi whispered, staring at his shaking hands, eyes tearless and devoid of all emotion. “The Bookman is dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a review on your way out or smthn


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I've actually been planning this chapter for a really long time. Like, this was something I've had in mind since the beginning of the whole fic, if you can believe it.

Allen slowly turned another page in the novel he was reading, eyes listlessly skimming over the lines. He had been trying to read the same paragraph for the past few minutes, but had given up when he realized that he didn’t actually remember a word of it. So now he was just...staring at the novel, at the words that blended into a smear on the page, trying to make sense out of them and failing miserably. 

Kanda wasn’t home from his job yet, wouldn’t be home for another couple of hours. The samurai had been picking up as many extra hours as he could lately, probably to avoid the gloomy atmosphere that had descended over the entire household. 

And Lavi…

Lavi hadn’t left his room for the past two days, except to the go the bathroom. Allen had been leaving food outside his door, hoping that the redhead would actually eat something, but nothing had been touched. He had been planning on giving Lavi some space for a bit to recover, to let him gather himself a little before forcing him to deal with people again, but…

Now Allen was just getting worried. 

Allen let out a deep sigh and finally closed his book, putting his bookmark back where he’d started. He sunk his elbow onto the table and folded his hand under his chin, simply resting his head there for a moment. He was so tired. Tired of losing people he cared about, tired of his friends losing people they cared about. Tired of war, and the people it left ruined in its wake. 

His heart ached for Lavi, ached to spare him from the pain of losing someone who had been akin to a father. 

Allen didn’t...know what to do, though. His own coping methods when Mana had died had been less than normal, he knew, and Cross had not been the biggest support during that time. Was he supposed to offer sympathy? Express sorrow with Lavi? Throw him off the balcony and tell him to get over it? He didn’t _know._

This wasn’t an issue he could solve by stabbing it with his Innocence. Not...that he had his Innocence anymore. 

Running his hand over his face, Allen sighed again and got to his feet, carelessly tossing his novel onto the pile of books next to the couch. He wasn’t going to get any reading done today. Maybe a walk would clear his head. 

He was just debating whether or not he should take the wheelchair with him--he was feeling a lot better lately, and he might be able to get by without it--when there was a knock on the door. 

Allen jumped, and looked over at the clock. Four p.m., far too late for mail. Who could possibly be at the door?

His mind jumped to the latest report from Komui, sent just a day ago, addressing the death of the Bookman. Bookman’s death had led to the appointment of a new senior Bookman, and as Kanda had speculated, it had been Bao Lei’s Bookman. While the European branch and its exorcists hadn’t reacted yet, it was only a matter of time before the new Bookman’s stance against Allen shook their support of him. 

Allen reached for one of Kanda’s wooden practice swords, which he always left lying around the apartment. For once, he was glad that the samurai hadn’t cleaned up like Allen had asked him to. 

Then, he realized his oversight; while he was holding the sword, he could not also open the door. 

Sighing in exasperation--this was ridiculous, honestly--Allen set the _bokken_ against the wall, within easy reach, and opened the door. 

Allen wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. An angry mob, come to attack him or possibly drag him to Bao Lei? The new Bookman, here to actually get the facts straight instead of mindlessly following Bao Lei’s orders? The mailman, here with a package or a telegram? 

He stared in surprise at what appeared to be two...teenagers, their faces hidden behind their hoods. They were wearing what appeared to be finders cloaks, but the clothes were so big that Allen couldn’t tell what gender they were. The one on the left was about six inches taller than the one on the right, but other than that, they were basically indistinguishable. 

“Uh…” Allen began, but then his gaze tracked up and over them, for just a moment, and he caught sight of their neighbor Gladdice. She had her door cracked open, and was watching the duo with a suspicious glare. 

He glanced between Gladdice, the duo, and Gladdice again, and hesitantly raised one hand to wave at her. “Hello Ms. Gladdice!” He chirped, and immediately winced when the door slammed shut. “Oh dear.” He muttered, and shook his head as the...finders?...whipped around to stare at the door across from them. “Why don’t you two come inside? Sorry, my neighbor is very paranoid.”

“Thank you.” Said the one one on the right in a stiff, feminine voice, and Allen moved out of their way to let them inside. 

He fussed over the table for a second, grimacing at the sorry state of their kitchen--they were in no condition to entertain guests--before making a sweeping gesture toward the chairs. “Would you two like something to drink?” He checked his mental inventory of the ice box, “Something to eat, perhaps?”

After a moment of hesitation, the two finders settled into the offered chairs, every movement tense. The shorter one, the one who had spoken earlier, said, “Tea is fine, if you have it.”

“Aisha!” The taller one said, aghast, in a low baritone. 

The newly named Aisha let out a scoff and threw back her hood, revealing dark skin and shiny, thick black hair. She was beautiful, in a careless sort of way; her hair was tied haphazardly around a multitude of braids, and her face was devoid of makeup. “He’s crippled and weak, Naeem, does it look like he can do anything right now?”

Allen took a step away from her, suddenly feeling wary. 

The other finder let out a growl and also flipped back his hood, a scowl twining across tanned, freckled skin. He had curly brown hair and bright brown eyes, and the sort of face that looked suited to smiling and laughing. Except right now, it was twisted into a dark frown. 

“He’s an ex-Noah,” Naeem said. “We can’t let our guard down, and you know it.” 

Allen swallowed harshly, taking another step away from them, only to find his back trapped by the counter. It seemed as though he had let enemies into his home, but--what enemies? Why were they here, what did they want?

Aisha turned back to Allen, startling him a little, and said in a more demanding tone, “Tea is fine, if you have it.”

He nodded slowly, licking his lips, before turning to Naeem. Even as he did so, though, he became twice as aware of his current weakness; the training with Kanda had been helping, but he was still in no condition to fight. These two could pummel him into the ground without breaking a sweat, if they so wished. 

Naeem glared at Aisha for another second, before sighing deeply and turning to Allen. “Just water.”

As Allen set about preparing their drinks, questions swirled around in his mind. Why were they here? Were they after Allen’s head, were they planning to take him to Bao Lei? What was their game?

But fear kept his voice silent, kept him from saying a word. 

He had a sudden image of Lavi appearing from his room, his eye bright and intelligent, ready to talk the duo out of whatever they were planning on doing. Allen glanced toward the hall, biting his lip, but Lavi’s door remained firmly shut. It seemed as though Allen was on his own in this situation. 

“Thank you.” Aisha said as her cup of tea was set down in front of her. Naeem grunted quietly, but said nothing. 

Unwilling to be any closer than necessary, Allen backed away from the two of them and leaned up against the counter again. He internally debated whether or not he could escape from the apartment before they caught him, and decided that it was too much of a risk. Especially considering that he really had no idea what they wanted.

_Besides,_ he thought, _they probably won’t kill me._

He didn’t know that, though. He didn’t know who they were. 

“Ah…” Allen began softly, and two suspicious glares turned to look at him. “Um...I was just wondering…”

“Get on with it.” Naeem said impatiently. 

“Who are you two?” He blurted out, folding his arm across his chest. “Why are you here?”

The duo glanced at each other, communicating silently amongst themselves for a moment. Then Aisha turned to him, “This is where Kanda-sensei lives, isn’t it?”

“Oh!” Allen said, surprised. _Kanda-sensei?_ Maybe this wasn’t as bad as he thought it was, if they were friends with Kanda. He suddenly remembered his and Kanda’s conversation so long ago, about Komui giving him the child finders to take care of. “Oh. Um, yes?”

“We worked with Kanda-sensei during the war.” Aisha said softly, and Allen stared, a little horrified. They didn’t look older than sixteen. “He kept us safe.”

“I still think it’s ridiculous that they’re forcing Kanda-sensei to live with this Noah.” Naeem spat under his breath, and Allen flinched away from his poisonous words, his tentative hope dying in his chest. 

Allen abruptly shifted his weight back to his shaky legs, and muttered a quiet, “Excuse me.” The two finders watched him as he walked as quickly as he could to Lavi’s room, and knocked on the door. He needed Lavi in here, _now_ , or someone. Anyone. He felt unsafe, and panic was beginning to blossom in his chest; he could be killed, right now, and he could do nothing to stop it. 

“Who’s in there?” Aisha asked sharply, and there was a creaking sound as the two shifted threateningly in their seats. 

The scrutiny only made Allen’s panic ratchet up a little more, but he forced himself to say, “The Bookman Jr. is in here.” He waited a few seconds, focusing his gaze on the floor, trying to force some calm into him. There was no response, however, and he felt a burning begin in the back of his eyes. “I--” He took a shuddering breath. “I guess he’s still...working.”

He felt...trapped, for lack of a better word. He had let two unknowns into his house, and even if they knew Kanda, it was clear that they definitely hated Allen. For something he hadn’t even done! 

For a moment, his fear was interrupted by a small note of frustration, because what had he done to deserve this? First he got his mind ripped apart by a fucking Noah, then he had to go through that damn trial, and for what? So he could get torn down and despised by every person who had been involved in the war?

How was that fair?

But then the frustration quieted, because there were people here, now, who wanted him dead, even if they hadn’t done anything yet. However one thing was clear; Allen was not going wait two hours for Kanda to get home in this room. Kanda might come home to a corpse if he did that. 

Though his instincts as a host were screaming at him for abandoning two guests, his self-preservation instincts were screaming for him to leave. Right now. 

“Listen.” Allen began, a little shaky, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor. He licked his lips, took a fortifying breath, and continued, “Listen, uh, we weren’t really expecting guests today, and Kanda won’t be home for another few hours.” 

Naeem’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you asking us to leave?”

“N-No, of course not!” He turned to them and waved his hand placatingly, sweat trickling down his back. “I just meant...I need to go. To the store. To pick up some...you know. Food.” He relaxed his face as much as he could. “Do you two mind waiting here on your own?”

They glanced at each other, and for a second Allen thought they might tell him not to go. He wondered if they were debating whether or not to keep him where they could see him; after all, that’s what he would do if he had a known enemy in front of him. 

“We’ll be fine.” Aisha said eventually. 

Allen was so relieved he almost started crying; he walked as quickly as he casually could to the door, unhooking his wheelchair from its hook. He opened the door, and after a second thought turned around and bowed deeply to them. “Excuse me.” 

Then he shut the door. 

Allen couldn’t move for a second, his relief at having a barrier between him and them overwhelming. He rested his forehead against the grainy wood of the door, breathing deeply, trying to calm the panic in his chest. He couldn’t freak out now, not when he still had to get downstairs, to put more distance between them. 

Sighing softly, Allen drew away, finally opening his eyes and taking in the silent, empty hallway around him. Only then did he finally force himself to move. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour and a half later, Kanda found Allen at the bottom of the stairs, curled up and dozing against the wall. 

Allen looked up when he heard footsteps approaching, all the tension leaving his body at the sight of his friend. _Everything will be okay now,_ he thought, rising to his feet. “Kanda.” He said. 

“Beansprout?” Kanda asked, confused, the visible part of his face sweaty and smeared with dirt. The other half of his face was hidden behind his pristine white face mask. “What are you doing here?”

Having had the whole two hours to consider it, Allen was beginning to feel a little silly about his reaction to the whole situation. Yes the two finders had shown their distaste for Allen, and yes they had made a few disparaging comments about him. But that didn’t mean that they were planning on hurting him, or even killing him, necessarily. It certainly hadn’t been enough to warrant the panic he’d gone through. 

So, shuffling his feet and hunching his shoulders guiltily, Allen said, “It’s, um. Nothing, really I’m just being silly. It’s just, there are some finders in our apartment, and they said they know you…”

“What?” Kanda asked, narrowing his eyes. “Did you get their names?”

“Naeem and Aisha.” Allen said. 

Kanda’s eyes widened a little bit, and he began heading up the stairs past Allen, obviously eager to get to their apartment. Before he could get very far, however, he stopped, and looked back down at Allen. 

Allen hadn’t moved; in fact, his hand was hovering over the railing, and he was just trying to force himself to go back up. His paranoia was ridiculous, he knew that; besides, Kanda was here, so nothing could happen anyway. It was fine….

“What did they do to you?” Kanda asked quietly. 

Allen jumped at the sound of his voice, and looked up at the samurai. “W-What?” And then the question registered. “Oh, nothing!”

Kanda took a menacing step down toward him. “Don’t give me that bullshit. Why are you waiting at the bottom of the stairs? _What did they do?”_

“Like I said, I’m being silly!” Allen shouted back, harsher than he meant to. He reeled himself back in, attempting to moderate his tone, before saying, “Honestly, Kanda. They just….made their distaste of my being a Noah known.”

Kanda’s brow darkened at that, oddly enough. “They made you feel unsafe.” He said. It wasn’t a question.

Allen opened his mouth to disagree, to say no they hadn’t made him feel unsafe, he had just overreacted, and...but he closed his mouth, and looked away. Because that would be lying. He had felt unsafe, and he had panicked and left. 

“I overreacted.” Allen whispered feebly instead.

When he looked up again, Kanda was already halfway to their apartment, his long legs eating up the distance in seconds. He had no idea what Kanda was planning on doing, but the storm cloud that followed him up the stairs made Allen very nervous. 

“ _Kanda!_ ” Allen shouted as he followed the samurai as quickly as he could. “Kanda, wait!” 

As he neared the top his traitorous legs gave out on him; he winced when his knees banged up against sharp corners, nearly causing him to tumble back down. He paused for a moment to catch his breath, silently cursing the fine trembling of his legs. Then he forced himself back to his feet, and hobbled up the rest of the stairs. 

By the time he had finally reached the apartment, Kanda hadn’t yet begun to tear into Naeem and Aisha. The two of them were standing in front of him, chattering excitedly, not seeming to notice that something was wrong. 

“Kanda,” Allen wheezed, “Kanda, wait.”

Naeem looked over Kanda’s shoulder, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sound of the unfamiliar voice; then his face darkened when he realized who it was. “You damn Noah, I knew you weren’t--”

“Shut the fuck up.” Kanda said very softly, very controlled. 

Naeem looked up, surprised, and next to him, Aisha jerked. “What?”

“Are you deaf as well as stupid?” Kanda demanded, his voice rising. “I said _shut the fuck up_.”

Allen looked over nervously at Gladdice’s door; it hadn’t yet opened yet, but that didn’t mean anything. They were standing in the hall, shouting at each other; it wouldn’t be very difficult for Gladdice to hear them. 

“Kanda, let’s go inside.” Allen begged, grasping Kanda’s elbow. 

Kanda’s glare was as sharp as it was deadly. But after a second, he let out a growl and stalked forward into the apartment. Allen followed quickly after him, carefully shutting the door behind them. 

There was a pause, where the entire room held its breath. Naeem and Aisha stared at Kanda, wide-eyed, and the samurai stared--or more like glared--back at them, unreadable. 

“You two are an embarrassment.” Kanda finally growled at the duo, seemingly unswayed from his desire to let them have his anger. 

“Kanda-sensei, I don’t understand.” Aisha responded, her beautiful face twisting into a confused moue. “Aren’t you happy to see Naeem and I? It took us a long time to find you.”

Kanda abruptly turned away from them and, in a movement as quick as lightning, withdrew his sword and slashed through one of their chairs. Even Allen flinched away from the movement, even though that fury wasn’t being directed at him. For the first time, Naeem and Aisha seemed to understand that something was really wrong, because their skin went ashen. 

Still holding the sword, Kanda turned back to them. “What did I tell you?”

“Kanda-sensei…” Naeem whispered. 

“During the war, what did I tell you?” Kanda demanded, even more fiercely. 

“We don’t know what you’re talking about!” Aisha cried, and there was a slight shakiness in her hands. 

Allen was beginning to feel sick to his stomach. He wished he had never said a word to Kanda. 

“Do you really think,” The samurai hissed, his voice low and venomous, “I would live in a house with my enemy? Are you so blind?”

The two blinked; first at Kanda, then at each other, and finally over at Allen. They clearly hadn’t realized that this really had something to do with the supposed Noah. For Allen, however, the sudden unwanted attention just made him shrink away. 

“Kanda,” He murmured, “That’s enough. It’s fine.”

But his words had gone unheard; now Naeem’s face was darkening, and he said, “Sensei, that is a _Noah_ , he is our sworn enemy. You seem to have been fooled by his--”

“If you say one more word, you will become just like that chair.” Kanda’s voice was clipped, shaking with the force of his rage. Then he pointed the sword in Allen’s direction, “Look at this stupid fucking beansprout, really look at him!”

“Please don’t.” Allen said, and looked away when two scared, hesitant gazes were directed toward him. He instinctively wrapped his arm around his middle, like it could protect him from the wrath swirling around the room. 

But Kanda wasn’t finished. “Do you really think a Noah would walk around with one arm? One eye? Muscle atrophy? _A busted memory_?” Each phrase felt like someone was ripping holes in Allen’s chest; he had never felt so vulnerable in his entire life. He wanted to leap forward and shake Kanda, tell him to stop spilling all his weaknesses to these strangers. “How could you possibly fucking think that this is a Noah? I found _Allen Walker_ \--” 

Allen’s breath hitched in his throat. He couldn’t remember the last time Kanda had said his name. 

“--at the bottom of the fucking stairs because he was scared you two were going to kill him.” 

With that, Allen found the strength to raise his voice. “Kanda, that’s enough!” 

His voice rang like a whip crack in the tiny apartment; the silence that followed was stunned, horrified, terrible. The two finders were pale and frightened; Kanda was rigid and cold, frozen in the middle of his anger. And Allen couldn’t take it anymore, because they were just children; they were children, they were scared. Their only crime was that they had been scared, and it had made them lash out. 

Allen let out a bone deep sigh, suddenly feeling twice as old as he usually did. He slumped over and looked away, unable to meet anyone else’s gaze. “You’ve said enough.” His breath shuddered in his chest. “I’m going...I’m going to…go.” 

“Beansprout--” Kanda said, taking a step toward him. 

“No!” Allen said, covering his face and backing away. “Don’t--don’t shout at them anymore. I-I’ll be back.”

He wasn’t so certain about that, actually, but he didn’t say that. 

No one moved to stop him when he yanked his wheelchair from the hook and wrestled with the door, his numb fingers unable to find purchase on the smooth metal. He needed to leave, right now, _right_ now, before the people in this room ate him alive. 

Someone took his fingers from the knob, and gently opened the door for him. Allen looked up, but flinched back violently when he saw Aisha staring back at him with big, young eyes. 

“Thank you.” He said, stepping away from her, out the door. “Excuse me.”

And then he ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)
> 
> Also PLEASE keep an open mind about Aisha and Naeem; like I said, they're just children. They're actually super sweethearts and I love them to bits, but right now they just lack an open mind and have a lot of misinformation.


	17. Chapter 17

Allen stared out across the river, motionless. He felt as though his insides had been opened up and rubbed raw, vulnerable and aching. Kanda’s words--the kids’ hostilities--it had all been too much for him. He wanted nothing more than to go back home and hide in his room, pull the covers over his head and pretend the rest of the world wasn’t there for a day. 

But he could not. There was no way he was going back to the apartment while those--those kids were still in there. He would deal with his problems later. Preferably tomorrow--or preferably never, really. 

He sighed, and dipped his head so his nose was resting against his knees, shutting his eyes against the bright sunlight overhead. He had thought things would be easier, after the war. After his trial. After...Neah. It never got easier, though. Things just seemed to get worse and worse. And he just didn’t know how to fix it. 

Allen was so focused on his introspection that he didn’t notice the sound of footsteps creeping up behind him. Not until the grass crunched, announcing the arrival of an unexpected visitor. 

Allen’s head shot up, his eyes blowing open wide as he twisted around, trying to get a glimpse of the person. Before he could fully turn around, however--

“I thought I might find you here.” 

Allen stopped, gaping up at a shock of bright red hair, and a single green eye. 

“L-Lavi?” He gasped out, half rising to his feet, but paused when Lavi waved him off, and instead sat down in the grass next to him. 

“Hi, Allen.” Lavi said, smiling tiredly. His hair was drooping limply over his headband, and the bags beneath his eyes were startlingly dark. However he was out of his room, and seemed to be reasonably functional, which was better than the past few days had been. 

“Are you okay?” Allen asked, frowning at his friend, then realized what a stupid question that was. He shook his head, annoyed with himself--obviously his friend wasn’t okay--before correcting, “How have you been doing?”

Lavi looked out over the water, expression thoughtful, considering the ripples of light across the muddy surface. For a moment he looked so sad, Allen wanted to reach out and pull him in for a hug. Or something. Whatever it took to wipe that melancholy frown off of his face. 

“I’ve...been better.” He decided eventually, curling his fingers into the fabric around his knees. 

Allen let out a choked, somewhat relieved laugh at that. “You’re doing a lot better than I did when I lost Mana.” Then he clamped down on his mouth, wondering why the hell he’d said something like that. He didn’t want to talk about his deceased father, let alone with Lavi. Plus, what if that was an insensitive thing to say, and now Lavi hated him forever--

But Lavi shot him a hesitant, questioning look--but it was so tired and pleading, as though he were asking for help.

Allen’s thoughts quieted, became steady. _Okay._

This time Allen was the one who settled his gaze on the far bank, unable to look at his friend when he said, “I, uh...had a depressive episode. For about a year. I wouldn’t do...anything, basically. I couldn’t. Cross, ah…” He let out a soft bark of laughter. “He holds that year over my head a lot. I wouldn’t be alive without him.”

There was a moment of silence, where those words sat between the two of them, heavy and dark like molasses. Lavi didn’t shift, didn’t make a move, almost like he was too scared to break the atmosphere. Or too tired and uncaring. 

Then he let out the shuddering breath he’d been holding in. It rattled the both of them, settled them more than any words ever could. 

“W-Well.” Allen breathed, and then continued more forcefully, “That’s all in the past.” He turned to Lavi. “I’m sure you didn’t come out here just to--to talk about this. Was there something you needed?”

Lavi blinked at him, startled, before his face went from mild and serious to dark and ashamed. He looked aside at the ground, took a fortifying breath, and then turned to look Allen dead in the eye. “I wanted to apologize.”

Bewildered, Allen cocked his head to one side. “Whatever for?” Surely he didn’t mean for hiding in his room for two days. That was understandable--he’d needed to grieve. Allen had just told him about his major depressive episode when Mana had died, he knew better than anyone how death affected a person. 

“I--I heard what...what those two said.” Lavi said awkwardly, and his gaze wavered. “I heard you, uh. Knocking. And I just…” He shrugged, and his courage finally waned as his eye found the grass again. “I should’ve stepped in. You needed help, and I ignored that. I’m sorry.”

In a small voice, Allen said, “Oh.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I told them all off for you.” Lavi was quick to continue, his voice shaky. “Even Kanda. They were all--they were all unfair to you, and I couldn’t--.” He broke off. “I’m only sorry I didn’t step in sooner. So, I’m sorry.”

“It’s…” Allen began, uncertain as how to respond to that. He was uncertain about his own feelings on the subject. On one hand, Lavi had kind of left him to the wolves. But he was still grieving for the Bookman, and Allen knew better than anyone what grief did to a person. Could do to a person. “It’s okay, I guess. You’re--”

 _“No.”_ Lavi growled, with surprising intensity. “Don’t make excuses for me Allen, not this time. No matter how I’m feeling right now, you’re one of my closest friends, and I should’ve been there for you.” He bit his lip, and said in a voice that was forced steady, “The Bookman is gone, but you are not. I shouldn’t have forgotten that.” 

Allen hesitated, fumbled with his words, a little awed by the strength of Lavi’s resolve. For a second something twisted in his chest--the desire to have that conviction, that strength. And another emotion was there, too--guilt. Guilt at forcing Lavi to have to be strong for him, to push through the pain of losing his almost-father to come and find Allen. But that sentiment wouldn't be welcomed, so he finally said the only thing he could say: “I...accept your apology, then.” Then, as quickly as he could, “But you also shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

Lavi barked out a laugh, a touch wet, but smiled a wide grin and nodded agreeably. 

Allen turned away from his friend to look back out at the water, a warm, fuzzy feeling building up in his chest. For perhaps the first time since their argument, he felt completely comfortable in Lavi’s presence. It was extremely gratifying, in a way that made him feel as though he was on top of the world. 

He had really missed his friend, although it was….regrettable that it would take such a tragedy to bring them together. 

He was slightly distracted, however, by Lavi shifting awkwardly next to him, “But you know….that’s not entirely what I came out to do either.” 

“Oh?” Allen asked mildly, feeling his shoulders tense up around his ears. 

Lavi grimaced, sensing the dangerous edge behind Allen’s words. “Kanda...he wants you to come back. It’s dangerous for you to be out here alone.” 

Allen paused, grimacing around the sour taste in his mouth. Because it was true, after all--he was the last person who should be out alone. But he just-- “Are those kids gone?” Allen asked, not looking at Lavi. 

“No.” Lavi said, but before Allen could respond, “They--they would really like to talk to you. I think they want to apologize.”

“And what if it’s a trap?” Allen asked plaintively, tightening his arm around his legs at the thought of it. “They--they wanted me dead earlier. Why would they change their opinion about me now?”

There was a moment of silence, and Allen bit his lip, feeling heat beginning to gather behind his eye. He just--he just wanted to go somewhere he felt safe. He had thought that the apartment was mostly okay, especially with Kanda around, but now--

“Allen.”

He was jolted out of his increasingly darker thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, turning him slightly so they were facing each other. Lavi stared into his eye, brows canted into a deep V, and said, “You don’t have to worry about that, Allen. Kanda and I are here to protect you. We won’t let them hurt you.”

Allen stared at his friend--at his earnestness, at the determination that spilled onto the planes of his face--and…

He wanted to believe Lavi. 

He wanted so badly to trust his friend, to reach out and take the hand that was reaching out to him. And before--before everything, maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe he would’ve clammed up and told Lavi not to worry, that he had everything under control. But--

That was then. 

But-- 

_(I’ll entrust my care to you.)_

This was now. 

“Okay.” Allen whispered. Then, more confidently, “Okay.” 

Lavi smiled at him, squeezing Allen’s shoulder and giving him a terse nod. Then he slowly, arduously, struggled to his feet, and offered a hand to Allen. 

“Shall we go?” 

(The only problem the two did not take into account was the fact that they were both still recovering from muscle atrophy. So when Lavi reached over to help Allen up, he ended up unbalancing the both of them, and sent them tumbling almost into the river.)

\-----------------------------------

Allen gently rested his hand on Lavi’s shoulder as his friend took a short break at the top of the stairs. While his stamina had certainly been improving--the result of his almost manic dedication to his physical therapy, no doubt--he still had a long way to go. 

Allen used to get pretty frustrated about his own physical weakness; going from being able to do one-handed handstands to having to rest every time he went up a flight of stairs was...beyond discouraging. But after seeing Lavi’s situation, after seeing what two years in a coma had done to him, Allen felt just a little better.

He immediately felt guilty for thinking that, but that was beside the point. 

Allen shook his head, and leaned closer to his panting friend. “Are you ready to go?” 

“One more second.” Lavi muttered, rubbing his forehead. “I really...hate stairs.” 

“I know that feeling.” Allen sighed in commiseration, grimacing as he remembered his own misadventures with stairs. Kanda having to carry him up them was a vivid, embarrassing memory that he was desperately trying to forget. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

Lavi nodded, though his eye was hidden beneath his hand, still resting gently on his forehead. His panting slowed to low, deep breathing; the tension in his shoulders loosened, unfurled beneath Allen’s hand. Finally, he let out a deep, tired sigh, and said, “Okay.”

Allen helped him up, and they retrieved their wheelchairs from where they were leaning against the wall. Their apartment was dead silent as they neared it, almost eerily so; usually even conversation at a moderate volume was audible, so this lack of sound was odd. Allen had thought that they’d hear something as they approached, but…

He and Lavi exchanged worried glances. 

“Do you think they’re okay in there?” Allen whispered, not brave enough to actually go inside. 

Lavi glanced at him, raising one eyebrow. “Well...let’s find out.”

And before Allen could stop him, Lavi reached out and opened the door. 

Kanda was leaning against the wall in the far corner of the room, probably so he could see all the entrances and exits. Naeem and Aisha were both seated at the table, their shoulders hunched and their faces downcast. When Lavi opened the door, however, they all turned to look toward them, in almost perfect unison. 

For a second, silence reigned. 

Kanda was the first to move; he separated from the wall, face neutral, and advanced upon Allen. “You stupid beansprout,” He said, though it lacked heat, “You can’t just leave like that, it’s not safe.”

Before Allen could respond, Lavi said calmly, “He wouldn’t have left if you three hadn’t seen fit to _chase him out.”_

Well, that made things awkward again.

“It’s--it’s all fine.” Allen said hurriedly, smiling through his teeth. “No hard feelings. Let’s just, ah--”

“No, he’s right.” Aisha interrupted quietly, rising from her chair and walking over so she could face Allen. “We were...unspeakably rude to you, considering you welcomed us into your home.”

Here she paused and turned expectantly toward Naeem, who was glaring at the floor, his expression mulish. He glanced over at his companion and scowled a bit deeper, clearly not entirely on board with this whole ‘apologizing to a Noah’ thing. 

Aisha stepped down on his foot, hard. Naeem rolled his eyes, and said, “We have decided to give you the benefit of the doubt.” He finally looked up at Allen, his gaze hard and unforgiving. “However, we would like an explanation. If you are _not_ a Noah, then what are you? Why did you and a Noah wear the same face during the war?”

Allen stared at Naeem, open mouthed. Because--what? What did they mean, _if you are not a Noah?_ Didn’t they understand that the Noah wasn’t a physical human being, but a non-physical entity which entered people’s bodies and controlled them like puppets? 

He turned to Kanda and demanded, “Is he serious? Did no one tell them anything about the Noah?”

“It wasn’t my job to educate them!” Kanda snarled, apparently deciding to take Allen’s words as an accusation. “I was just trying to keep them alive!”

“That’s--” Allen shook his head, feeling annoyance rear up in his chest. He turned back to the two very confused finders, and said, as gently as he could, “The Noah are a parasite.”

Aisha looked at Allen, then Kanda, and finally at Lavi, as though searching for a proper explanation for that cryptic statement. Clearly she had never heard that before, even though that’s what the Noah _were_. Why hadn’t the European branch explained this to them?

But that brought up an even more unsettling question--did literally none of the finders in the Black Order know what a Noah actually was? 

It made a certain amount of sense. If people knew they were actually fighting other innocent people who were just possessed, they might become unwilling to fight. The Black Order wouldn’t have wanted there to be any hesitation when taking down the Noah. That ignorance was useful during the war, when killing the Noah was a necessity, but--

For people like Allen, it backfired spectacularly after the war. 

Allen turned to Lavi, a little desperate. “Lavi, can you…” Explain, he didn’t say. Make it right, he meant. 

Lavi looked at him for a second, searching, before nodding slowly in response. He stepped forward, caught the attention of the two confused young finders, and began to talk.

He told the story of the great flood, and the fourteen human survivors who considered themselves to be children of God. He told the story of death and rebirth, of secrets that were hidden deep inside the human body. He told the story of hostile takeovers, of people who lost themselves because of greed and great evil. 

He told the story of the Noah. 

At the end, when Lavi finished his story, there was absolute silence. Allen couldn’t tell whether it was Naeem and Aisha digesting what they’d just heard, or whether they were too shocked to speak. He shifted on his feet, nervously picking at a loose thread on his pants. 

Finally, Naeem spoke. “Say it’s true--”

Kanda let out a growl and took a step forward. “It is, you--”

 _“Say it’s true.”_ Naeem said again, sending a dirty look toward the swordsman. Aisha folded her arms and leaned back against the counter, wary and watching. “Why--why have we never heard about this before?”

“They never told us anything, Naeem.” Aisha interjected unexpectedly, her gaze distant even as she spoke. “During the war...would knowing the truth have changed any of our actions? We never asked, so they never told.”

“They were worried about compromising your ability to fight the Noah.” Kanda finally stepped away from the wall, moving forward to join the gathering. “This idiot--” He jerked his head toward Allen, “Defeated a Noah, and then tried to save the host. We all almost died.”

Allen rolled his eye even as he felt a blush rise to his cheeks. “He was an innocent man. I couldn’t just leave him.”

That response seemed to baffle Naeem and Aisha almost as much as the story had; they both looked simultaneously at Kanda, incredulous. Allen wasn’t sure what had confused them so much, but the twin gazes of bewilderment had him stifling a laugh into his palm. 

“He’s for real.” Kanda muttered, his face twisting like he’d rather that not be the case.

“It...it makes sense, though.” Aisha muttered suddenly. “They never said why you defected, just that you had.”

Allen stared at Aisha blankly, the statement not processing for a second. But then--

There was a buzzing in his ears, like the sound of a thousand wasps, and he stared at Lavi’s mouth as he responded, because--was that what they called defecting these days? Sending the apocryphal to murder him in his jail cell, then getting rescued by their sworn enemies, the Noah? Was that what they were telling people, that he had run away from their prison and become one with the enemy?

No wonder they all wanted him dead. No wonder the people from the Black Order had spat at him and called him a traitor. They didn’t know the truth--they barely knew half the truth. 

Abruptly, a small laugh burbled up from the base of his throat, interrupting whatever Lavi had been saying. He was helpless to stop it. 

“What?” Naeem spat. 

“I didn’t defect!” Allen said, feeling a little hysterical, and wiped away the tears in his eye. “The Black Order locked me in their shithole of a prison and apocryphal tried to kill me! I barely escaped with my life!” 

Kanda and Lavi abruptly stopped what they were doing in favor of staring at Allen, but--he couldn’t stop laughing. Because wasn’t that fucking _rich._ That was the funniest thing anyone had said to him in the last several months. That he defected, like some rogue exorcist who had gotten tired of the Black Order’s bullshit. 

A light touch on his arm startled him so badly that he nearly jumped out of his skin, but it was just Lavi. The Bookman Jr. was giving him a soft, concerned look, but it was enough to stop Allen’s laughing fit in its tracks, because--

If he kept going, he would start crying. And there was no way in hell he was going to break down in front of Naeem and Aisha. 

“What...exactly happened?” Kanda asked slowly. “The night you escaped from the Black Order.” 

“Hold on.” Lavi interrupted, raising his hand to stop Allen before he could even begin to try to explain. “This is all well and good--I’m interested in the story myself--but there’s a far more pressing question I have.” He turned to Naeem and Aisha, his face serious. “How the hell did you two find us?” 

Naeem and Aisha glanced at each other, faces equally puzzled. 

“We…” Aisha began slowly, “There’s...not a lot of Japanese people left, especially not in Europe. We followed the rumors.”

“You followed me.” Kanda said flatly, and Lavi and Allen shared a nervous glance. They hadn’t even considered that when they went into hiding--but now that Allen thought about it...the entire island of Japan had been the main target of the Earl’s hostile takeover. It would make sense that the only Japanese man in the whole of Germany would attract some attention. 

“If they can follow you,” Lavi said slowly, “Then Bao Lei certainly can.”

“Dammit.” Kanda rasped, agitated, and dragged his hand through his hair. “We can’t stay here.”

“What are you people talking about?” Naeem demanded, his face twisting up. “Why can’t--”

“Bao Lei is currently trying to execute me so that she can gain enough influence to takeover the branch in China.” Allen explained tiredly, feeling like he wanted to start laughing again. “I’m....not too interested in being found by her, to be honest.”

Naeem was staring at him, as though he’d never considered the possibility that there could be people after Allen’s life. But honestly it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise; after all, to him and to the rest of the world, Allen was just a Noah scum. He was the embodiment of everything the exorcists had ever hated, had betrayed them and the Order. To the Black Order and Bao Lei, death was too much of a kindness to Allen. 

A phantom knife pressed against his throat. He shivered.

“I...see.” Aisha said slowly, and looked as though she wanted to say more, but Lavi cut in before she could, all business. 

“We need to contact Miriam and leave as soon as possible.” The Bookman Jr. said firmly, fingers tapping agitatedly against the table. “If you’re here, then Bao Lei can’t be that far behind.” Then to Allen’s surprise he turned to the two finders, his expression grim. “Listen I’m sorry to ask this, but do you think--”

“We’ll do whatever it takes to throw them off your trail.” Aisha interrupted firmly. “We owe you that much, at least.”

“Wait, wait.” Allen said, feeling as though the situation was very quickly spinning out of control. He was seriously starting to get tired of that feeling. “It’s too dangerous. Going against Bao Lei could potentially ostracize you from the rest of the Order! You should just leave--”

“Not a chance.” Unexpectedly it was Naeem who spoke, his handsome face stony. “We’ve done enough damage--let us help you.”

“I--” Allen tried, feeling panic like bile rising up in his throat. “But--”

A hand suddenly clamped down on his arm, stopping him before he could say anything further. 

Kanda was staring at him, silent and steady, a rock in the eye of a whirling storm. Allen stared back, and somehow, slowly, found himself beginning to match the samurai’s slow breathes. Something in him relaxed, just enough so that he could think. 

They did not have a lot of allies right now. They were alone in unknown territory, and their only ally was a strange woman who claimed to be related to Komui. Bao Lei’s men were almost certainly on their way, and they would be here within the next couple of days, if they weren’t here already. They had to utilize every resource that they could, or risk dying. 

They were running out of options, and time. As much as Allen would've liked to have spared Naeem and Aisha from getting involved, they didn't have that luxury. 

As much as he didn't like it, it made sense. 

“...okay.” Allen breathed out, and Kanda’s grip loosened. “Okay.”

“Good.” Kanda stepped away, as though he hadn’t just stared down Allen’s panic and made it go away, just like that. Lavi was staring at them with one wide, bewildered eye, but the samurai just said, “You two, if you see anyone suspicious, try to throw them off our trail. Hopefully we’ll be out of here by tomorrow.”

Aisha and Naeem slid to their feet, nodded and responded, “Yes Kanda-sensei.” 

Then, Naeem hesitated. Aisha was halfway out the door, but she glanced back when she realized that her partner wasn't following her. 

The young finder took a deep breath, and moved to stand in front of Allen. “Listen, I’m...sorry.”

For a second, Allen was too surprised to speak. Then he realized what was going on, and immediately tried to stop it, cringing as he said, “Oh, please. Don’t worry about--it’s okay.” He forcibly twisted his grimace into an understanding smile. “I was a Noah to you, after all.”

“No!” Naeem interrupted, curling his fists at his sides. “No, I misjudged you. And I...I’m sorry for my behavior. You didn’t deserve any of it.” When he looked up, his eyes were fiery and determined. “Let me make it up to you. Please.”

And--

Oh. 

_Oh._

Allen took a deep, shuddering breath around the _something_ building inside him, something entirely out of his control but so strong it made his whole being tremble. Here was this boy, this child, who had hated him and wanted him dead and Allen had accepted it because it was true, wasn’t it, _he was a Noah and this was what he deserved_ but--

But--

 _You didn’t deserve any of it._

Was that true? Did he--

The words were so sweet, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and take it. Wanted to believe that despite everything, despite being a Noah and killing his father and--and everything--

It was too much. 

Allen took another breath, and shoved down the emotions, the thoughts, everything. He packed them all up into a little box and put them on a shelf in the corner, to be studied and dissected at a later date, because, 

Not here. Not now, with this crisis hanging over their heads like a storm on the horizon. Later. 

“Thank you.” He managed to choke out instead. 

Naeem nodded once sharply, and turned away. The door clicked behind them, and just like that, they were gone. 

"...come on." Lavi muttered. "Let's get moving."

\---

The next day, Kanda woke up with a fever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS CHAPTER WAS SUCH A BITCH TO WRITE
> 
> I rewrote the latter half of it several different times, just because i wasn't satisfied with it. I'm still not satisfied with it! God I hate this chapter!!
> 
> And on that cheerful note: we are coming to the endgame of this fic! Hooray! 
> 
> I'm guessing it'll have at the most another 10 chapters.
> 
> Edit: hap hols and merry chrysler ya filthy animals


	18. Chapter 18

“So there’s absolutely no way to transport him?” Miriam asked, her voice vaguely tinny over the communication device. She didn’t sound worried, per se, but there was a strained note that was a stark difference from her usual cheerful attitude. 

Lavi looked down the hall at the half-open door that was usually his own room, which they had repurposed into a sickroom for Kanda. There was the faint sound of retching, and then Allen exited, his worried moue covered by the white mask he wore. He was holding a trash bag in his gloved hand, and there was an odd-colored stain on his white apron. Lavi winced. 

“Even if he didn’t throw up on us as we were traveling and get us all sick,” Lavi said quietly, turning away, “We would attract too much attention. There’s no way to move him.”

It had been like this all morning. First had been the fever, a ferocious thing that had sweat dripping slowly but steadily from Kanda’s forehead. The samurai had insisted that he was okay, right up until he turned green and threw up his tea into the sink. This had continued until well into the afternoon; they were lucky if their friend could keep down water, at this point. 

Miriam was silent for a second, the air filled with the buzzing static of the open connection. Lavi waited patiently for some kind of response, drumming his fingers against his folded arm. 

“...I guess there’s nothing we can do.” She muttered finally. “We’ll have to wait out Kanda’s sickness before we can move you.”

Lavi glanced over at Allen again, and met his eye. He was still so thin and frail, despite weeks of good meals and sparring with Kanda, and the white glove, mask, and apron he was wearing made him seem more pale than usual. It was probably just Lavi’s imagination, but when Allen tilted his head curiously, it made him seem innocent and open. Trusting.

 _We said we’d protect him._

Lavi waved dismissively at Allen, and turned back to the communicator. “Yes, there’s something you can do.” He lowered his voice, listening as Allen headed back toward the sick room. “Leave us behind. Bao Lei isn’t interested in us--get Allen out of here while you still can.”

Miriam was silent for a second, considering. Or at least, that was what it seemed like to Lavi. When she spoke, however, her voice was firm and unyielding. “We’ve already considered that. We’ve decided to wait a little longer before taking that risk.”

He was speechless for a moment. And then he had to wrestle his voice into something more moderate and less shouty. “Risk? The longer he stays here, the more likely he is to die.”

“There’s more than one reason why we put him with you two.” Miriam responded calmly. “Why do you think we put the scapegoat of the war with the most decorated general of the war and the Bookman Jr.?” 

It took him a second to catch on--what relevance did that have with anything?--but when he did, his mouth dropped. “You--” He stopped, voice strangled. “That’s--”

“Precisely.” Miriam sounded unfairly smug, the crafty little genius. “Bao Lei has shown before that she doesn’t care much about civilian collateral. If Allen were living with a couple of finders, or even a few less well known Innocence-users, then she would have no problem simply killing everyone to get to him. That’s easy to cover up or explain. But you two--if she were to destroy you two--”

“She would lose the moral high ground. The Order would turn its back on her.” Lavi finished. “You...used us as a shield.”

“A very effective one.” Miriam added. “But if we tried to take Allen out of the city without you two nearby, she could very well just kill him and everyone he was with. It’s especially dangerous since we know that Bao Lei is nearby.” 

Lavi hesitated for a second, uncertain as how to feel about that--how did one respond to being told that they had been used?--but in the end, just nodded. It was for a good cause, after all; they all wanted Allen to be safe. “I’d still like you to consider it, as a last resort. The longer they know where he lives, the more time they have to plan.”

Miriam sighed. “Trust me, we’re well aware of that.”

A thought suddenly occurred to Lavi.“What does Komui have to say about all of this?” He asked curiously. It had been several weeks since they’d heard anything from the head of the Black Order--but last Lavi knew, Komui had launched an intense internal investigation for Bao Lei’s spies. 

“Komui?” She responded, obviously caught off-guard by the question. “Well...he hasn’t actually been informed of the situation.”

“What?” Lavi hissed. “Why not?”

“That witch hunt of his has pulled up more spies than anyone could have expected, not to mention he’s helping Bak Chan try and keep hold on the Asian Order.” Miriam clicked her tongue. “As much as I’d like for him to be involved, he’s stretched so thin as it is. He trusted me to handle whatever might come up, and so should you.”

Lavi bit down on any retort he could’ve made, not willing to get into an argument about it right now. Even if Komui didn’t get involved, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be updated about possible danger to his soldiers. More than anything else, this sounded like Miriam was out to prove something, but to who and why, he wasn’t sure. He just hoped it didn’t get anyone killed. “Alright. Was there anything else that you wanted?”

“Actually…” He tensed at the hesitant tone. “There was one more thing.”

Something in his stomach dropped. He had a feeling that he knew what this was about. 

“What?” He forced out through gritted teeth. 

“I’m sorry if this is an insensitive question, but…” Miriam pushed on. “Have you thought about the Bookman’s will at all?”

Had he--

Had he thought about the Bookman’s will at all? What kind of stupid question was that? He hadn’t stopped thinking about it, ever since he had first laid his eyes on the words. As if he could. He was unable to disentangle his emotions regarding it all--terrible anger overlapped with raw grief, paralyzing him, until it was all he could do to breathe.

(But he had to breathe. He had to be strong, for Allen and for Kanda. They needed him now.) 

Of course he couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

“What of it?” He muttered, tone glacial. 

“Lavi--” 

“I--I know the implications.” He cut in. “I know what could happen if I--if I--” He took a deep breath, then another one. He just needed to--to ride it out. 

Miriam was silent as he collected himself, either with understanding or sympathy, he wasn’t sure. Still, he was grateful for the opportunity to pull himself back together. 

“Don’t ask me.” He whispered finally, knowing that his voice was half-pleading. “Not yet. Give me--give me some time.”

“...alright.” Miriam relented. “I understand. Please just...think about it. That’s all I ask.” 

“I will.” Lavi muttered, and hung up before Miriam could say anything else. He wasn’t really in the mood to hear it, anyway.

“Did you just hang up on her?” A soft voice asked from behind. 

Lavi jumped, startled, and turned to see Allen leaning casually against the wall, watching him, his delicate hand bare of the glove he’d been wearing. Lavi hadn’t heard the other teen sneaking up behind him; despite the muscle atrophy, he hadn’t lost his propensity toward stealth. He relaxed, sheepishly scratched the back of his head, and said honestly, “She...said something I didn’t like.”

He was expecting a mild rebuke, or a dry eyebrow raise. To Lavi’s surprise, Allen just let out a bone-deep sigh, and said, “I know that feeling.” He shook his head, and then stepped forward so he was leaning against the wall next to a surprised Lavi. “Kanda’s finally stopped throwing up. He’s resting now, but…”

“That’s…good.” Lavi decided, though that was debatable. The fact that Kanda was sick at all was worrying--he was, at the moment, their most capable fighter. With the samurai out of commission, they had no way of stopping Bao Lei’s people if she decided to come after them. Lavi did not buy, for one second, that his and Kanda’s presence was a deterrent. This was why he’d wanted Allen out of the city, dammit. “Listen, Allen.”

Allen tilted his head, expression fading to expectant. 

Lavi grimaced lightly, but forced the words out. “Bao Lei is coming. She might already be here. Kanda and I, as we are…” He looked away, his fingers tapping against his thighs. “We can’t...can’t keep you safe. We can’t protect you.”

Something shifted abruptly in Allen’s eyes, and though Lavi couldn’t quite tell what it was, it looked uncomfortably close to resignation. He opened his mouth, words forming on his tongue, but Lavi was quick to cut him off. 

“I want you to leave Berlin by yourself.” He said firmly. “Soon. Tonight, or tomorrow morning. We’re dead weight to you, and you’re better off without us.” He paused for a second, uncertain as to whether or not he should bring it up--but he forged on anyway. “You managed to evade the Black Order for several weeks on your own, after all.”

Allen stiffened at that, just a little, as though the very memory of that time made him jump. For a second Lavi wondered if he’d overstepped, but then Allen’s shoulders smoothed out, and his expression went from vaguely hunted to thoughtful. “Is...that what Miriam suggested?”

Lavi scratched the back of his head. “I, uh…”

“So Miriam disagreed with you, and you disagree with her.” Allen summed up, raising an eyebrow. 

“She thinks its a better idea to keep you here, with us.” Lavi blurted, swiping his hand through his hair, agitated. “But it’s not. The longer you’re here, the more chances Bao Lei has to get you, and--” He exhaled slowly. “I...don’t want that to happen.” 

Allen bit his lip, his eye wandering from Lavi’s face to the door where Kanda was resting. Without looking away, he asked, “What does Komui have to say about all this?”

Lavi laughed once, quick and harsh. “Funny--I asked the same thing. She hasn’t told him.”

Allen didn’t react for a second, the words not quite registering. But when they did, his eye widened, and he stared incredulously at Lavi. “What?”

“I know.” Lavi grimaced, folding his arms. “The fact that Miriam told us at all tells me that she’s not a traitor. But I do think it means that she has something to prove to someone. I’m just hoping it doesn’t get us all killed.” 

Allen opened his mouth, the furrow in his eyebrows indicating that he was about to say something biting and annoyed--

There was a knock at the door. 

They froze simultaneously, Allen with his mouth still open, Lavi staring blankly at his friend’s face. There was a beat where neither reacted, simply listened, waiting for some indication that that had just been their imagination--

There was another urgent knock, this time accompanied by a voice shouting, “Open up, it’s me!”

Lavi sighed, relieved, and went to go let Aisha in.

\----------

Allen stood at the counter, staring at the boiling tea kettle in front of him, half listening to the chatter going on behind him. The other half of his mind was on the conversation he’d just had with Lavi, the one where his friend had suggested that he leave on his own. 

“We didn’t see any of Bao Lei’s men,” Aisha was saying, “But that means nothing. People have ways of moving around undetected. For all we know, they could be watching this apartment.”

If he left on his own...where would he go? What would he do? He thought he was well enough that he didn’t need the wheelchair all the time anymore, which would help with mobility. But on foot, he wouldn’t be as fast. Could he find a carriage to take him outside the city limits, and then continue on foot from there…?

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about.” Lavi responded grimly. Allen felt rather than saw him drag his hand through his hair, a nervous tic the Bookman Jr. probably didn’t even notice. “Where did Naeem go?”

And what if he stayed here, with Lavi and Kanda? Kanda had been the one who was supposed to protect him, but now that Kanda was sick...they were a liability. As much as Allen was loathe to admit it, the both of them were. Bao Lei could easily come into their home and take Allen, with very little resistance. None, if she threatened Kanda and Lavi. 

Aisha sighed lightly. “I sent him across the city, in case Bao Lei was following us. I came here in a very roundabout way--we’re hoping to throw her off your trail.”

Fuck, why couldn’t Bao Lei just leave them all alone?

Allen gritted his teeth, squeezing the counter with his hand. He just wanted to live in peace--couldn’t she let him have that? But no, she had to cause problems for all of them, had to make them uproot Lavi and Kanda’s lives as well as Allen’s. It wasn’t enough that she was hunting Allen--she had to hunt his friends, too? 

It would be simpler, much simpler, if he just gave her what she wanted. 

His grip loosened, and Allen blinked. 

Kanda would be safe. They could get him to a real doctor. 

Lavi would be safe. He could settle down in a library somewhere and write the grief out of his heart. 

They could live the lives they were supposed to have after the war, rather than being chained to this broken pariah. 

_They said they’d protect him._

But they couldn’t do that anymore, could they?

More than that, though, more than that...Allen remembered right before his trial, when he'd been too weak to walk on his own. When he'd resolutely stared Komui in the eye and told him, with complete certainty, that he was done running. He hadn't stopped though, not really. He'd still stolen away from the Order to escape his pursuers, still voluntarily locked himself in a cage instead of following through. In the end, he had still done what he said he wouldn't do. 

“Thank you.” Lavi sounded far too grateful. Far too tired. He was still recovering from the grief of losing the Bookman, Allen knew. But he’d forced himself to be strong. 

The tea kettle shrieked, and Allen jumped out of his stupor. He stared at the metal container, for a second confused as to what he was supposed to do with it. Then he shook his head and said in a monotone, “Tea’s ready.”

Aisha came up on his left, where his sleeve had been tied up to where his elbow would’ve been, to keep it from getting in the way. She gently touched his shoulder and waited for him to look in her liquid brown eyes before saying, “Thank you, Allen. I know this must be difficult for you.”

His train of thought stopped for just a second. His breath caught in his chest, choking all the words that he could’ve said. The look in her eyes was so kind, so understanding, he felt something break in his chest. It had been so long since someone had looked at him like that, like he deserved compassion and kindness. He felt unworthy of it. He felt dirty. 

He had to turn away. 

“Thank you.” He breathed, “That’s very kind of you.” And then he covered his mouth with his hand to keep himself from saying anything else. 

The hand on his shoulder tightened briefly, and then Lavi said somewhere in the distance, “Come on.” Then the hand left him to his swirling emotions, left him to try and stay afloat among the shattered pieces of his heart. 

There, drowning in a sea of uncertainty and fear, he made his decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh allen ;_;
> 
> i known this chapter was pretty short, but it has some really important plot points, and it's a great transition into the next chapter. Things are finally coming to a head! I'm thinking there's only going to be 4 or 5 more chapters at the most. we'll see. 
> 
> also i know this is kind of late, but i've been thinking of having. you know. they entire story betaed, and some parts even rewritten. so if anyone wants to help out with that that'd be cool


	19. Chapter 19

Komui tapped his fingers in a slow, monotonous rhythm on his chair. Every hollow thump seemed to echo around the empty room, reverberating back at him. _Taptaptaptap. Taptaptaptap._

Despite its role in saving the world, the Black Order was a relatively small organization. They relied primarily on donations from the small group of individuals who knew what work they truly did, and the number of people willing to join the war effort was...small. Komui was honestly surprised that the organization had lasted as long as it had--almost no one was crazy enough to bet their lives on what was surely a suicide mission. 

Overall, the European Black Order had roughly 100 employees, 50 finders, and a handful of exorcists at any one time. That was around 170 people. 

Komui hadn’t been expecting much when he’d launched his investigation into the European Black Order two weeks ago. Maybe 10 people, at the most 20 people. At the most. These were Komui’s men, after all. He had fought with them, bled with them, held their hands as they grieved over family members. 

40 people. _40 people._ And the number was climbing. 

Komui took a deep breath and shifted in his chair, momentarily halting his persistent tapping. He started up again as soon as he was settled. 

That was a little less than a quarter of the Order. A little less than a quarter of his men had apparently lost enough faith that they were willing to put their lot in with a psychopath. The same men and women who had trusted him with their lives during the war turned their back on him when peace finally came to their doors. 

Komui almost missed the war--people had been simple, then. They were all just trying to survive, and the only reason someone might betray them was if the Earl had infiltrated their ranks. It was understandable; it was natural. The Earl was their enemy, so he implanted spies in their midst. It was annoying, but it made sense. 

The most coherent reason that Komui got out of the traitors was that Bao Lei was right about him, and about Allen Walker. Allen Walker was a traitor, and the fact that Komui had sided with him was a sign of...he didn’t know. Sudden loss of judgement? Sudden insanity? Answers varied. His befuddlement increased with every vitriolic comment spat in his directions. 

Lenalee had gotten this look on her face recently, a dark, hunted one that he hadn’t seen in years. She stalked the Black Order like an animal, and people quickly learned that the only way to avoid getting trampled was to get out of her way. And god forbid anyone insult Allen in her presence--just the other day she had nearly taken someone’s head off. 

He was worried, a little. He was concerned that one day Lenalee might finally snap and rain her fury down on someone who didn’t deserve it. But...

Komui knew the reason for her agitation. It was because of all the traitors they’d been unearthing. More than that, he understood where she was coming from. He felt that same skittishness, that same desire to cloak himself in armor and look suspiciously on anyone who approached. But since he wasn’t allowed to do that--he was the face of the Order, after all--he was forced to express his emotions in different ways. Namely, locking himself in his office for hours at a time and letting no one except Lenalee, Johnny, Reever, and Jerry in. 

And...he knew that he was affecting the entire Order with his moods. The others had caught some of his suspicion--scientists whispered furtively amongst themselves and then fell silent when others walked by. Finders eyed each other darkly, as though expecting a traitor to reveal themselves at any moment. 

Komui scrubbed his hands over his face tiredly at the memory--it was becoming a problem. Lenalee wasn’t the only one who looked like she was about to snap; the entire Order felt like a primed bomb, just waiting for a match to set it alight. 

This couldn’t go on forever. The instability was threatening the European Order’s ability to react, and that was the one thing they couldn’t afford where Bao Lei was concerned. She would no doubt take advantage of that instability. There was even the possibility that she was behind it all, had encouraged the suspicion, had primed the bomb. 

If she had, it was working. That was the worst part. 

Komui was interrupted from his musings by a sharp, succinct knock on his door. He took a second to sake out his hands and fold them on the table, forcing his fingers still, before pasting a neutral expression on his face. Calm, inscrutable. The face of a leader. “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Director Komui.” Came the prompt response, and Komui relaxed. _Reever._ “Can I come in?”

Komui was already on his feet and halfway to the door. “One moment.” 

He undid the lock and threw the door open, revealing the exasperated expression on Reever’s face. The Chief of the European Science Branch hadn’t changed much over the years, except for a thin scar which trailed from just below his lip to an inch under his eye. An unfortunate accident with a Noah, but at least the man had survived. 

“It smells musty in here.” Reever said with mock annoyance, shoving past Komui and into the office. He observed the books and papers strewn across the floor with no small amount of disdain. “When was the last time you cleaned in here?”

Komui grinned unrepentantly, even as he shut the door behind his friend. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Reever huffed and rolled his eyes. “Anyway, that’s not what I came in here to talk about. Link is back.”

Komui’s eyes widened--he’d almost completely forgotten about the ex-Crow. _“What?”_

The fact that Link was back--did that mean he’d found--?

“General Cross Marian isn’t with him.” Reever continued, dashing all of Komui’s hopes. “That doesn’t mean anything, though--he’s refusing to speak with anyone except for you.”

So there was still hope. Komui clenched his jaw, firming his resolve. “Where is he now?” 

Reever was eying him sideways, and the look on his face said that Komui was being weirdly serious again. “He went to the showers as soon as he got in--complained about the smell.”

Komui nodded sharply, completely understanding the feeling of wanting to be clean after days of traveling. “Bring him in as soon as he’s finished.”

Reever nodded back, and left the room. 

Komui sighed when he noticed that Reever had left the door open behind him. 

\------------------------

Long after Aisha had left, Lavi turned to look at Allen, still hunched over the tea kettle. His hand was no longer covering his mouth, instead resting lightly on the counter. He didn’t look any better, though. 

Lavi remembered, very clearly, the way Allen’s expression had broken before it had slammed shut. He remembered the way Allen had turned from Aisha, hand covering his mouth like it was all he could do not to scream. And all it had taken was one kind touch, one small gesture of kindness. Allen hadn’t been so unstable before. Emotionally and mentally traumatized, yes, but at least he had been a bit more steady. 

There was something going on in Allen Walker’s head right now, Lavi knew that much. He didn’t know what it was, but he was almost certain it was because of Bao Lei locking onto their location. He was also almost certain that whatever it was, it was very, very bad. Allen was close to making a decision that would have irreversible consequences. 

What he needed to do now was change Allen’s mind, before it was too late. 

“Allen…” Lavi began, not entirely sure how to approach his friend. “Allen, why don’t you sit down with me?”

Allen jumped a little, then whipped his head around to meet Lavi’s eye. The look on his face was vaguely hunted. He considered that for a second, before slowly turning away from the counter and saying slowly, “Yeah...sure. Okay.”

Relieved, Lavi slid into one of the chairs next to the table, smiling openly as Allen did the same. But now that that first hurdle had been crossed, the smile froze on his face. He had no idea what he was supposed to say. 

He took a deep breath, preparing to jump in, when Allen beat him to it. 

“I’m sorry, Lavi.” He said quietly, his eye fixed on the wood grain of the table before them. “I’m sorry I--” He broke off, biting his lip. 

This, Lavi could do. Even if he wasn’t so good at initiation, he could react. “Allen, you know that none of this is your fault, right?”

“That’s not true.” Allen said immediately, finally looking up into Lavi’s eye. “If it wasn’t for me, you would be safe. It’s because of me that you’re trapped here in this city, unable to leave because--”

“I am here because I want to be.” Lavi interrupted firmly. “And--maybe I was here at first because I was forced to be, but I feel differently now. And I think I speak for Kanda as well--you know better than anyone that no one can force him to do what he doesn’t want to do.” 

“But--” Allen was looking frustrated now, his fist curling into a tense ball in front of him. Lavi’s breath caught in his throat--the sense of standing on the cusp of something monumental almost overwhelming. “Regardless of whether or not you two want to be here! You can’t deny that you’d probably be happier elsewhere! You can’t deny that--that you wanted to leave the Black Order and get on with your lives.” 

“Allen.” Lavi said, quietly stunned. He hadn’t realized that this what his friend was bottling up--this constant, irrational guilt. The idea that he was somehow dragging his friends down, despite the fact that the idea had never crossed Lavi’s mind at all. 

“It would be better if I wasn’t here.” Allen whispered, his voice heartbreakingly soft, too stuck in his own head to see Lavi’s face. “It would be better if I--if--”

And Lavi, in that moment, completely misunderstood. He didn’t understand what Allen was really saying, and that whatever Lavi said right then would change the course of the future. Despite his intelligence, despite his ability to read people, Lavi Bookman Jr. was unable to understand how close his best friend was to shattering. 

“Allen.” Lavi said urgently, leaning across the table. 

Lavi would look back on this conversation for years, wondering. If he’d said the right thing, if he’d understood, and made Allen understand, would things have been different? Would that have been enough to prevent the disaster that followed? 

He would never find out. But the words he wished he’d thought to say--

_“Allen, you can’t think that. Please don’t think that. Don’t you know how much we all love you? Don’t you know how much we would cry if you weren’t here?”_

He didn’t say them. 

Instead he said, “Allen, I promise that this is all going to be over soon. I promise that Bao Lei isn’t going to be a problem for any of us. I have a plan, I know how to solve all of this.”

Allen froze, staring at his friend. There was tentative hope blooming in his eyes. 

“The Bookman’s will,” Lavi began, and then his throat closed up. He swallowed once, twice, and then said again, quieter, “The Bookman’s will said that he wanted me to be the next Bookman. He’s given me a recommendation, and a letter publicly denouncing Bao Lei and her fake Bookman.”

Allen inhaled sharply, leaning back a little in his chair. 

“If I take up the mantle and challenge Bao Lei’s Bookman, I can stop all of this.” He continued. “I can clear your name, and make sure people know the true story of the Noah. I can do that.” He reached out and gripped Allen’s small, cold hand in his own. “So please, stay here. We can protect you, just like we promised.”

And for some reason...the hope, which had been burning like slow coals in Allen’s eye, winked out. Lavi was suddenly lost; where before he had thought he’d understood his friend, now he wondered if it had been something else. Why--?

“You’re still sacrificing yourself for me.” Allen whispered, gently shaking off Lavi’s grip and folding his hand in his lap. 

“I want to.” Lavi said honestly, still trying to figure out what had gone wrong. 

Allen hesitated for a second, still with that terribly blank expression on his face. Then he smiled, very small and very sad, and said, “I know you’ll be a great Bookman.”

And when Allen got up to leave the table, Lavi couldn’t help but think that he had failed, that he had missed something important.

The dread in his stomach felt unnaturally close to the feeling of falling. 

\------------------------

Kanda was pretty certain that he had never felt this miserable before. 

A fortunate side effect of his rapid healing ability was that he also never got sick. When the entire Order had been suffering under the effects of an extremely contagious cold, he’d been the only one they could rely on for missions. Even Alma had been prone to colds, where Kanda had stayed hale and healthy. 

But after the war had ended, the science department had removed the lotus tattoo on his arm, and his healing ability along with it. Kanda would’ve been happy to keep it, but according to the scientists, the longer he had it on the shorter his life got. Not that he cared whether or not he lived long, not really, but the others had. Lenalee had demanded its removal as soon as she’d heard, which was just typical. 

Now he wished that they had just let him keep the damn thing. Maybe then he wouldn’t be feeling this way--sore all over, stomach cramping up at even the thought of food. Nothing pleasant had been happening in his system--shit, he didn’t even want to think about it. God fucking damn it. 

Being sick was _disgusting._

The door creaked open, and Kanda let out a groan as the light from the hall lanced across his face. _“Shut the fucking door!”_ He rasped. 

But what was even worse was that he had to rely on the stupid beansprout and the stupid rabbit. He was completely helpless, and it was mortifying. 

“Sorry.” The beansprout whispered, hastily shutting the door. Darkness encompassed the room, but Kanda’s eyes were long used to the shadows. He could just make out the beansprout’s outline, hovering inside the doorway. 

“Wait.” Kanda squinted. “Where’s your--fuckin’--mask? And glove? Get out of here, you stupid piece of shit.” He vindictively thought about releasing the contents of his stomach all over the idiot, just to prove a point, but he restrained himself. 

But the beansprout didn’t listen to him, just shook his head slowly and began feeling his way toward the small chair at the desk in the corner. “This won’t take a second, I promise. I just want to talk.”

And now Kanda was suspicious. He levered himself onto his trembling arms (he hated how they could barely support his weight), so he could get a better vantage point. It was starting to bother him that he couldn’t make out the beansprout’s face properly. Little warning bells were starting to go off in his head. “The hell do you mean _talk?”_

“Just--” The beansprout sighed, low and tired. “Talk. Is that so hard to understand?”

“It’s never just talking with you.” Kanda muttered, scooting back against his pillow. “Alright, what do you want?”

There was a long stretch of silence, where Kanda got more and more impatient, and more and more certain that something was wrong. He really wished he could see the stupid beansprout’s face right now. 

Finally the beansprout said, “Have you thought…about what you’re going to do after...after this is all over? After we’re all free?”

_Well that’s an odd wording,_ Kanda thought, frowning. He wasn’t trapped here--he could technically leave whenever he chose to. He was the one who had insisted on the beansprout having an experienced protection detail, after all. It hadn’t needed to be him, and he’d been slightly surprised when the decision had been passed down, but he wasn’t complaining. The stupid beansprout had half the globe out for his blood, he needed the best. 

But what were his plans after all this was over? After this shit with Bao Lei had blown over?

“Haven’t thought about it.” Kanda growled. _Didn’t think I’d live that long,_ he mentally added. He’d been bred for the war, after all--he’d had no reason to think that he’d get a life of any sort after it was over. 

His second reaction was to tell the moron that it wasn’t any of his business, but the warning bells were still ringing in his head. This moment was important, for whatever reason. \

“Why?”

“Why do you fucking think?” What a dumbass question. “I was born to be a weapon. No one expected the war to end in our lifetime.”

The beansprout paused at that, like he was genuinely surprised by the answer. Then he let out a short, derisive bark of laughter. “You know, I honestly feel the same way. I always thought I was going to die during the war. After the trial, I was so excited to... to live, you know? To be...normal.” He sighed, a breath of sound that almost rang in the dark room. 

Maybe it was the darkness, hiding their faces from each other. Maybe it was the fever in his veins, which broke down his walls and made him more frank than he would’ve ever been on his own. Whatever it was that caused the sudden bout of naked honesty, he was almost certain that it would never repeat itself. 

“You still have time, you know.” He said plainly. “It’s not like you’ve lost that chance. If you don’t die, then you’ll have a lot of opportunities to be normal after this.” 

There was another pause, this time much longer than the first. As the silence stretched on, Kanda mentally ran over what he had just said, and was immediately horrified. Had he actually fucking _said_ that? He needed to get away from these fucking people. They were making him soft. 

Before Kanda could vehemently start cussing beansprout out, however, the other teen said, very quietly, “And so will you. After all this is over, you’ll be able to experience all the things you weren’t able to when you were an exorcist.” 

Kanda squinted into the darkness, the sense of wrongness growing in his chest. That was too--wistful. Too firm. Too determined. It was the voice that Allen Walker used when he was about to do something stupid and sacrificial. 

“...that’s beside the point.” He said finally. “What exactly are you planning, you moron?”

The beansprout said nothing, but a second later the shadowy figure was across the room and at the door. Kanda blinked, and the door was cracked open once more, just enough so the light slanted across the beansprout’s pale face, across the sad slash of his mouth. For the first time Kanda truly saw the haunted look in his eye, and the weight which was suddenly weighing down the beansprout’s shoulders.

Kanda rose shakily from the bed, because--

He had to stop this. Whatever the beansprout was about to do, he had to stop it. 

“You’re going to get the life you deserve. The life you should’ve had.” Allen told him quietly. “I’m going to make sure of it.” Then, as Kanda was still trying to disentangle himself from the sheets, the asshole closed the door. 

There was a click as the lock engaged. 

“BEANSPROUT!” Kanda roared, sprawling in a clumsy heap on the floor. His sweaty hands skidded across the smooth wood, and then he finally managed to upright himself. He threw himself against the door, but it didn’t budge. “WHATEVER YOU’RE PLANNING, YOU BETTER FUCKING NOT. BEANSPROUT!” He pounded against the solid barrier, furious and terrified. _“ALLEN!”_

But Allen was gone. 

\------------------------

Link looked the same as the last time Komui had seen him. Same sinewy grace, same richly tanned skin, same long braid bleached by the sun. The only difference was the lack of spots on his forehead and the look on his face; when he’d been with Allen, he had seemed somehow more relaxed. Now he looked tense and grim, like all the happiness had been sucked out of him. 

“I found General Cross.” He began. 

“Is that where Timpcampi is?” Komui asked, looking around for the little golemn. 

“Yes, actually.” Link sighed, and sprawled casually in the chair across from Komui’s desk, a marked difference from his usual demeanor. It took a lot for Link to break his strict control of himself--he must’ve been bone tired. “But he’s not...well.”

And if that wasn’t one of the most alarming things Komui had ever heard. “What do you mean?”

Link frowned, pulling himself up and crossing his ankles so that he looked slightly more dignified. “Whatever magic General Cross was using to keep himself from aging...it, ah…”

Komui hadn’t realized that Cross Marian had been using magic to keep himself youthful, but it made a certain sort of sense. Just one more secret in a bucket of mystery. 

He suddenly recalled Neah falling backward, black hair turning white, grey skin turning pale, and caught on. “It wore off, didn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. “So he’s an old man now?”

“I’d place his age around 80 or 90.” Link confirmed, his voice equally grim. “He’s lucid enough--aging doesn’t seemed to have dulled his mind. However I didn’t want to risk transporting him in the passenger train from China to here--his physical health is too fragile to make that kind of journey.”

Komui winced, considering. On one hand, Cross’s strategic mind would be a great boon in the war to bring down Bao Lei and clear Allen’s name. What with Lavi unwilling--or unable?--to step up as the new Bookman, Komui had secretly been counting on Cross’s influence to turn the tides in their favor. 

On the other…

What would it cost them to get Cross to England? It sounded as though he might not survive a long journey. 

Then, a thought hit him. 

“You said China, right?” Komui asked slowly, tenting his hands in front of him. A plan began to form in his mind. 

Link nodded, equally slowly, looking as though he was beginning to have the same thought as Komui. The gears were turning in both of their minds, coming to a similar conclusion. “He wasn’t too far from the Asian Order. It would likely be no trouble for Bak Chan to go and fetch him.”

A grin began to spread across his face, slow and pleased. Having Cross in China might actually be better than having him in England--Bak Chan needed more help than ever right now. Bao Lei was an unstoppable force, but Cross himself was an immovable object. Pitting the two against each other would be an interesting thing to witness. 

‘Absolute disaster’ might be more appropriate, actually. 

Before Komui could say anything, however, he was interrupted by the sound of loud, urgent pounding on his door. “Komui!” Lenalee shouted, her voice high pitched and as panicked as he had ever heard it. “Komui, open the door!”

Komui’s brotherly instincts went into hyperdrive at the sound of the distress in her voice, and he practically transported himself across the room in .2 seconds. He threw open the door, his heart in his throat, and felt his stomach drop at the sight of twin tear tracks streaming down her face. He hadn’t seen her cry in almost a year. 

“Lenalee.” He said urgently. He was vaguely aware of Link coming to hover, alarmed, over his shoulder, but most of his attention was focused on his little sister. Focused on making it better, whatever had made her cry. He needed to fix it. “What’s wrong, Lenalee? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Allen.” She gasped out, grasping the front of his coat in two desperate, clenched fists. “Please, brother, help him. _Help him._ ” 

Komui grabbed her shoulders and tried to guide her to the chair, but she resisted any attempts to move her. “What’s wrong with Allen? What’s happened?”

“Bao Lei has him.” Lenalee said, and then broke down sobbing. 

\-------------------

Allen sat on the bank of the river, his eye closed and his face tilted into the calm breeze as it ruffled his bangs. He had sent Lavi to the market for medicine about thirty minutes ago--which had been much more difficult than expected, actually, the redhead had been oddly reluctant to leave--and five minutes later had locked Kanda in his room. By the time they would be able to react, it would be too late. And that was for the best. 

He felt more at peace than he had in a long time, maybe years. He had never been more certain that this was the right thing to do. His mere existence was a curse, a burden on his friends and their lives. If he left, if he removed himself from the picture...

Kanda could finally have the life that he’d never expected that he’d get. 

Lavi wouldn’t be forced to take the mantle of Bookman. 

And most of all, they would be safe. 

Footsteps crunched in the grass behind him. For a second he thought it was Lavi, coming to scold him for the stunt he’d just pulled, but then a second pair of footsteps joined the first. They were too heavy to be the Bookman Jr.’s, too--Lavi was far lighter on his feet than anyone would expect, considering his vibrant personality. 

“Allen Walker?” A man asked, his voice low and serious. 

“You’re late.” Allen said serenely. “I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes now. If I hadn’t been sitting here waiting for you, would you have found me at all?”

He braced himself. There would be hell to pay for that snarky comment. 

Sure enough, a second later one of the men grabbed his neck and his shoulder in a bruising grip, forcing his head into the ground. Allen allowed the manhandling amiably enough, having already decided not to resist. 

“Allen Walker, the 14th, you are under arrest for treachery against the Black Order, and murder of both exorcists and civilians in the war against the Millenium Earl.” Rough hands forced his arm behind his back, and Allen gritted his teeth to keep from crying out. A cold handcuff clicked as it attached itself to his wrist. “You will be taken to the Black Order in Asia to face judgement from Bao Lei, the true head of the Asian branch. Do you understand?”

Allen shut his eye, the ground cold and grinding against his cheek. This was his choice. He was done running.

This was what he needed to do. 

“I understand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (✿╹◡╹)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a slight warning--Allen is quite literally going insane in this chapter, so if that makes you uncomfortable, skip the third scene that involves Allen.

Allen was blindfolded and roughly manhandled into the back of a carriage. He thought it was a little silly that they’d handcuffed him, since he was currently missing one of his arms, but he said nothing. The conversation that flew over his head was terse and low, obviously not meant for prying ears, but Allen heard most of it anyway. 

“Are we transporting him like this all the way there?” The first man asked as he opened one of the doors. There was a slight Scandinavian burr sticking to the back of his voice--maybe Swedish?

“Those were the rules.” The second man said firmly, and this one had Chinese cadence, not dissimilar to Komui’s. His hand tightened on Allen’s shoulder. “We must follow our orders.”

“Of course.” The first man responded quickly. “But he could be dangerous. It would be easier if we knocked him out during transport.”

Allen felt a chill run down his spine, and for the first time he began to struggle against the grip on his arm. He would die before he let them knock him out. The thought of someone he didn’t trust putting their hands on him, moving him, _controlling him_ \--

No. He choked on his own terror, building in his throat like a miasma. He would rather die. 

“Knock it off.” The Swede grunted, and a meaty club of a hand cuffed him over the head. There wasn’t a lot of force behind the blow, but it still sent him reeling. “Do that again and we really will knock you out.”

Allen clamped down on his panic, and allowed himself to be manhandled into the carriage, stumbling blindly up the short stairs and sprawling across the floor. He only realized that he would be completely alone when the door slammed shut and the lock on the outside was engaged. 

He waited for a few seconds, breathing hard, until the carriage jerked forward and the steady sound of hoofsteps permeated the air. Then he slowly, carefully sat up, using the wall to support himself on his journey upright. He reached up and, with nimble fingers, removed the blindfold from his eyes. 

It took his eyes a moment to adjust, but when he did, his heart sank. 

His new confinement was cramped, made completely of thick wood, with no benches or chairs to sit down on. When he walked from end to end, he found that it was four feet by four feet, and he didn’t have to reach far to find the coarse ceiling. 

It was darker than he’d first expected it was going to be; there were no windows, and the walls were too thick to let any light pass through. A cursory examination of the door let him know that there was no way he was getting out from the inside--the inner handle had been removed. There was a small window at the top of the door, but it had thick iron bars covering most of his view. Even if he’d wanted to see anything out of it, though, he wouldn’t have been able to, as there was a thick drape covering the outside of the window. It was so dark that when he shut his eyes, he could barely tell the difference.

Allen jammed his fingers through the bars and tried to nudge the drape aside. A hint of sunlight brushed against his digits, and a slight breeze played against his fingertips. He stood there for a second, simply appreciating fresh air and the warmth on his skin, before sighing and letting the fabric fall. 

This carriage was essentially a wooden box with a door, designed to transport a dangerous criminal like him from one place to another. There was no consideration for comfort or kindness in the making. 

He was expected to tolerate this for several weeks?

For the first time, a small inkling of doubt trickled into Allen’s mind. Had he--had he done the right thing by giving himself up? _Of course I did,_ he told himself firmly, steadying himself against the wall. _This was my resolve, wasn’t it? To stop being such a burden on Lavi and Kanda, to let them get on with their lives. To stop fleeing like a coward._

He turned to the side and pressed his head against the cool wall, huffing a weary sigh into the darkness. It didn’t matter anymore anyway; he had made his decision. 

He kept telling himself that as the walls slowly began to close in around him. As his breath began to come in short huffs. As he curled into a ball and gripped his legs tight.

As he slowly began to fall apart. 

\----------------------------

“Why wasn’t I informed of the situation immediately?” Komui’s voice was tight, the model of control. The fury behind his calm facade, however, was almost palpable. 

A lesser man would’ve cowered away from a look as terrifying as the one Komui was giving Miriam. The ex-Crow, however, just stayed exactly where she was, her arms folded behind her and her knees evenly spread in parade rest. When her voice spoke, it was clear and unashamed. “I thought I would be able to handle the situation on my own.”

Lavi didn’t outwardly except to frown. Yeah, she’d thought she could handle it, and look what had happened. Allen was in the hands of Bao Lei, no doubt at the mercy of whatever nefarious things she had planned for him. 

As soon as Lavi had returned from the market, he had known something was wrong. The apartment had been oddly empty, oddly quiet, like there were ghosts living within the walls. And then he had noticed that the lock outside of Kanda’s door was engaged. Lavi and Allen had flipped the lock to the outside after the third time Kanda had locked them out of the room, but--

Lavi, heart in his throat, had hurried to open the door. Kanda had been standing at the windowsill, his hands bloody and the broken glass of the windowpane all over the floor. There had been a feverish sort of look in his eyes that spoke of something other than sickness. 

And Lavi had just--just known. That Allen had turned himself in, had given himself up despite everything, and--

Lavi had called Miriam, who had called Komui, and things had sort of spiraled from there. And that was how they’d all ended up at the European headquarters. 

“Bull _shit._ ” Lenalee spat, echoing Lavi’s own acerbic thoughts. Although her eyes were rimmed with red, they were also very dark, like twin black holes. For the first time Miriam reacted, her entire body flinching. “You thought Allen would meekly follow your orders when both Lavi and Kanda’s safety was at stake? Your _oversight--_ ”

“Enough.” Komui cut his sister off tiredly, waving a hand in her direction. “Lenalee, enough. It’s happened. It’s done. We need to focus on getting Allen back.”

Lavi swallowed hard and looked away, his chest clenching. It may have been Miriam taking the heat, but she wasn’t the only one to blame in this situation. Lavi had seen the signs--he had watched as Allen’s mood had steadily deteriorated, had done nothing while his friend’s thoughts raced behind his eyes. There had been signs, obvious ones; and Lavi had missed all of them. 

“How are we going to do that?” Lenalee demanded, turning her fury onto her brother. “It’s been two days, brother. They could be anywhere by now, we’ll never find them.”

“Lenalee,” Komui responded, his voice a carefully controlled calm, “You know you don’t believe that. You’re just angry and looking for someone to take it out on. Stop being a child.” 

She reared back as though she’d been slapped, her eyes going wide at Komui’s harsh words. There was a beat of silence, where her brother simply stared her down, his face unreadable and unforgiving. She opened her mouth once, twice, as though attempting to find a response to that, before her teeth clicked shut. 

A low, dark snarl erupted from the back of her throat, and then she turned on her heels and stormed from the room. 

Komui let out an exasperated sigh, but Lavi’s attention had wandered to where Miriam was still standing. There was something odd about the way that she was acting--her face had crumpled like wet paper, and her gaze was firmly fixed on the ground. Her reaction to Komui’s harsh words had barely merited a twitch--what was it about Lenalee that was affecting her this way?

And then Lavi realized. 

Miriam had something to prove, yes. He had been right. But she’d had something to prove to Lenalee Lee--and suddenly everything made so much sense. 

Lenalee Lee had been a prisoner of the Black Order for several years when she was a child, everyone knew that. It was the reason that she was so afraid of Levierre; it was the reason she’d hunched in on herself whenever he appeared, as though she were afraid he was going to take her back to that time in her life when she’d been so powerless. 

A side effect of this, of course, was that she’d known a lot of the Crow in the Black Order. They’d followed Levierre around like rabid guard dogs, after all. But Miriam had been a spy in Crow up until the end of the war, which meant that Lenalee had probably met her. Lenalee had probably known Miriam while she was still part of Crow. 

Miriam was not a bad person; she was deeply flawed and let her judgement get clouded, yes, but she was dependable and moral otherwise. No doubt she felt some deep guilt for not being able to help Lenalee while she was under Levierre’s thumb. And there was also no doubt that Lenalee did not trust Miriam in the slightest. If Lavi was correct, then Miriam had thought she could win Lenalee’s trust and forgiveness by taking care of her friends without help.

Well. They were all fools.

But even if Lavi had guessed the reason behind Miriam’s odd attitude, it was irrelevant. It wouldn’t help them get Allen back. 

“Do we know for sure that they’re taking Allen to China?” Lavi said out loud, and then realized just a second too late that he’d interrupted the awkward silence caused by Lenalee’s dramatic departure. He’d been studiously ignoring it, simply because he didn’t really give a damn about their complicated family issues. 

But Komui seemed relieved at the interruption. “W-Well. That’s what we’ve been assuming--that’s where Bao Lei is stationed, after all. While the Asian branch is in Shanghai though, Bao Lei is located farther North, in Beijing. So that’s where we assume she’s taking him.”

Lavi thought about that for a second, and then frowned. “Did you say Cross was still in China?”

Komui paused at that, his own face shifting from troubled to thoughtful. “That’s...true. I did say that.”

“And Marie.” Miriam interjected quietly. 

“We could organize a rescue operation from here.” Komui said slowly, “With the people we already have in China. How many trains go from Berlin to Beijing?”

\------

The fifth night, Allen finally broke. 

When the carriage came to a stop and sound of footsteps passing by the window became audible, he slammed his fist on the door. There was a pause in those steps, which was what he’d been hoping for--they’d noticed. He gripped the iron bars and, praying they could hear him through the drape, shouted hoarsely, “Hey!” 

When there was no immediate response, he pounded on the door again. “Please!” 

“What do you want, Noah scum?” The Swedish man growled, and there was a soft shuffle as he approached the carriage. 

Allen breathed out harshly through his nose. “Please, I--” He swallowed harshly. “Please don’t make me sleep in here again. You can tie me up however you like, but--” He rested his forehead against the door, squeezing his eye shut. “Please.”

The Chinese man snorted softly, and told the Swede, “Don’t listen to him. He’s just trying to escape.” Allen’s heart dropped in his chest when he heard the words--he couldn’t stand another night in this box, listening as animals snuffled and scratched at the outside, as curious men tapped the walls and debated stealing away with the strange container. He couldn’t stand another night of gasping for air as the walls closed in around him, as the cold clawed down his throat and stifled him, too close to his time as a starving circus boy named Red. 

(He was only thankful that they stopped every few hours to give him a bathroom break and some water. His grasp on reality was slipping more and more as the days went by.) 

“Please.” He whispered, dropping to his knees. His chest trembled. 

Then, to his absolute shock, the door creaked open, thin moonlight pouring through the opening. The Swede, a tall blond man with high cheekbones and stunning blue eyes, was staring down at him curiously, as one would stare down at a particularly interesting insect. 

Allen scrambled away from the door and averted his gaze, suddenly remembering that the people he was traveling with hated him, and probably wanted him dead. But--he forced himself to freeze, to let the man scrutinize him. There was no way he was spending another night out here. 

“Why not?” The Swede asked. Allen looked up, stunned. “I’m curious about this monster we are transporting.”

Unbidden, a frown crossed Allen’s lips. He almost protested--he wasn’t a monster, he’d been the _host_ of a monster--but he bit it back. If he was going to get what he wanted, and he couldn’t start backtalking them. 

The Chinese man seemed equally stunned. “Why--he’s our prisoner! Not only that, but he’s not even human! You can’t--” Agitated, the man’s hands began gesticulating seemingly at random. “You can’t--”

“You can put a gag in.” Allen interrupted quickly, his plea devolving into begging. His pride ached, but-- “And tie me up securely. I won’t--I--” They wouldn’t believe a word he said, of course, so he couldn’t tell them that he had no intention of trying to escape. He cut himself off, digging his teeth into his bottom lip. 

The Chinese man was silent, which let the Swede jump in. “Come on, don’t tell me you’re not a little bit curious.” 

The other man frowned darkly, and turned his fierce, dark glare on Allen. He tried to look as guiless as possible. 

Allen was quiet as they forced the straight jacket over his arm and tied it around his chest, so tight he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He almost said something when they tied the thin, strong chain around his ankle, but he managed to hold it in. The final piece, the gag, was a foul-tasting piece of fabric, most likely hastily constructed from one of the men’s old shirts. He gladly bore each restraint though, as it gave him freedom from that oppressive crate he’d been living in for so long. 

The walk through the hotel was a little awkward. The hotel staff greeted the three of them with odd looks as they brought Allen inside, and he did his best to hide his burning face behind his hair. Not only that, but the Chinese man had a firm hold on the other end of the chain attached to his ankle. Occasionally he gave it a little tug, as though he were reminding Allen of his presence, but it did nothing to help his already poor balance. The Swede laughed whenever Allen stumbled. Somehow, though, they made it to their room. 

As the Chinese man began tying the chain to the small table bolted to the floor on the other side of the room, the Swede turned to Allen and said, “Don’t even think of escaping. One of us will be awake at all times.”

“Mrph,” Allen muttered through the gag, his heartbeat finally smoothing out. He was so tired--his sleep had been fitful and unsatisfying the last few nights, and now that he was finally out of the box, his mind was beginning to calm. He just wanted to sleep. 

The two men shared an unreadable look, one he was too exhausted to decipher. He lowered himself to the floor as best he could with his arm tied up like it was, and turned so that he was facing away from the wall of the room. Finally, finally, he could stretch out, and he let out a soft sigh as he extended his legs and his toes. 

It felt amazing. 

Just before he fell asleep, though, he thought he heard one of them say, “He is different from what I expected.”

It was probably just his imagination, though. 

\----------

“It’s Lenalee, isn’t it.” Lavi said quietly, watching as Miriam’s shoulders bunched up around her ears. 

It had been almost six days since Allen had been taken from them. Six days since they had all failed their friend. And right now, right here, Lavi wanted answers. 

Miriam, at the very least, didn’t insult his intelligence by pretending not to know what he was talking about. She forced her shoulders down and let her head bow a little more over the table in front of her. “Clever boy.” She murmured under her breath, but didn’t turn around. 

Lavi walked over to her, and put his hand right in the middle of the map she’d been studying. It was a detailed one of China, and all the routes to Beijing had been marked in bright red ink. “I want an explanation.”

“You’ve probably already deduced it.” She said quietly, finally tearing her eyes away from the map. “Why must I tell you what you already know?”

“You owe me that.” Lavi hissed in response, his fingers wrinkling the thick paper as they tightened. “I want to hear it from you.”

Miriam stared at him, with eyes that looked as though they belonged to someone a million years old. He had never seen her look so unsure, so at odds with herself. The Miriam he remembered had been confident and strong, a woman who had laughed at a bunch of dangerous exorcists without care. 

He might’ve felt bad about coming after her like this, but she had brought this on herself. 

“You damn Bookmen.” She sighed finally, straightening up. “You’re always after the story, aren’t you.”

He said nothing, just crossed his arms and waited.

She sighed again and sat primly in one of the chairs at the table, then gestured for him to sit opposite to her. “You might want to sit for this one.”

He obliged, and listened as she launched into her tale.

“Komui and I had always been close. We were almost the same age, and both too bright for our own good. Lenalee was ten years younger than me, and I’ll admit that I did not understand her in the slightest. She was three when Komui asked me to join the Crow for him, and of course I accepted.” 

Here she paused, her gaze distant as she remembered that time. Lavi waited patiently for her eyes to clear, to sharpen once more. 

“I had no idea that Lenalee had been taken as an experiment for Levierre.” She said, spreading her hands across the table. “How could I? Komui was off doing whatever he was doing, and I hardly interacted with the poor children that Central used ‘for the sake of the war’” She scoffed. “I couldn’t. If I had, I would’ve compromised myself. Komui needed me in Crow. I couldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.

“It wasn’t for several years before I finally found Lenalee” Her face fell, and she swallowed. “It was an accident. I wasn’t even supposed to be where I was. As soon as I realized, though--” She broke off. “I’ve spent...years. Trying to make up for not finding her earlier. I thought if I...if I could just keep you three safe...”

“You thought you could finally atone.” Lavi said quietly. 

She laughed, a little wetly, and pressed her face into her hands. “And look how that ended up.” 

Lavi waited for a second, just to see if she had anything else to say. When nothing seemed forthcoming, he sighed and got to his feet to leave. He had gotten what he’d wanted. There was no point in staying any longer. He didn’t think she’d want a witness to her pain, anyway. 

Lavi paused in the door, a sudden thought popping in his head. He turned back to her. “You know,” He said quietly. Miriam looked up at him, her eyes rimmed with crystalline tears. “You might try talking to Lenalee. It’s just a thought.”

It had worked for him and Allen, after all. 

\----------

Ever since that one night, the two men let Allen out of the carriage at night. They were careful to put on his restraints each time, and the trek through the inn was always an exercise in patience, but at the least they gave him that small freedom. Every time they did it, though they had this odd look on their faces, like they weren’t entirely sure what they were doing. But they didn’t stop, and that was all that mattered. 

The days began to blur together, and Allen began to treasure the small freedoms he was allowed. He stood for hours at the window, pushing his fingers through the thick drape, drinking in the breeze on his skin, the warmth of the sun. He had become sensitive to light; whenever the door was opened during the day for his bathroom break, he had to keep his eye closed to avoid being blinded. Still, though he squinted it open as much as he could, just to catch a glimpse of the green grass. As they traveled, he listened eagerly for the sound of another human’s voice, craving to speak with them, to be in someone else’s presence without being treated like a monster. 

But mostly he sat, and dwindled. 

The little weight he’d managed to gain from regular meals and exercise faded from his body, until he was mostly bones with a bit of skin attached. And his mind was the same way--the darkness ate at the corners of his already fragile sanity. He saw hallucinations--first just little things, like a loaf of bread--but as time passed-- 

He was curled against the wall, staring blankly into the darkness, when she appeared before him, clear as day. 

Lenalee stared down at him, her jaw clenched, her beautiful violet eyes glittering like vibrant diamonds. But something was odd about her, something Allen couldn’t place, but--

“Lenalee!” He gasped out, and struggled to his feet. “Lenalee, how did you find me?”

“I’m disappointed in you.” 

Her voice cracked like a whip in his mind; he froze against the wall, staring at his friend. Had he--had he heard her wrong? He didn't think he'd done anything that disappointing lately, but...

“...Lenalee?” He breathed.

Her frown turned into a snarl. “But then again, you were always a disappointment.” Even as he watched, though, that same snarl twisted her face, twisted, and twisted unnaturally until--

Kanda stood before him, his eyes feverish and his cheeks flushed. “A disappointment.” He rasped, and that was when Allen realized that he was hallucinating. He turned away and shut his eyes, trying to shut them out.

 _Not real,_ He told himself, gritting his teeth. _Come on Allen, hold it together._

The first one was easily dispelled. He knew the signs of losing his mind, and he knew that feeding into it would only make it worse. But as time passed, and his grip on his mind weakened, they got worse. It got harder to deny that they were anything but the truth. 

Lavi, his back turned to Allen, his back hunched and defeated. 

Link, blood oozing from his mouth in heavy rivulets, his eyes sightless and pleading.

Mana--

He had no defense against the visions--he could only squeeze his eyes shut, and hope that they went away. His only salvation was when his captors took him from the Box and took him into whatever inn they were staying in. Then he could see the sky, could look right into the too-bright moon and breath the fresh air. One night, before the two men had been able to stop Allen, he’d moved to the bed and laid his cheek on the blankets. (It’d been so long since he’d felt anything so soft.) 

(And though Allen didn’t realize it, with every passing day the two men were exchanging more and more concerned looks over his head. They were speaking more and more in hushed tones during travel, wondering if this child was actually a monster. 

Wondering.) 

\-------------------

Lavi raced down the hall, his heart pounding in his throat. They’d all been wrong, they’d all been so wrong. They had thought--

They had made a plan. Cross had, with some grumbling, agreed to help them rescue his ‘stupid apprentice’. Marie had done the same, minus the grumbling. They’d supplemented the pair with some of Bak Chan’s men, and together had planned to ambush Allen’s captors as soon as they left the train at Shanghai. 

They’d all decided that there was no way Allen was getting anywhere near Bao Lei. 

But now--

“We’re wrong!” Lavi shouted as he burst through the doors of Komui’s office. 

Komui, Lenalee, Link (who had been brought up to speed on the situation just two days before) and Kanda (who had recovered a few days ago from his flu) all turned to look at him. Miriam was conspicuously absent, but Lavi ignored that for now. What was more important was--

The group was all staring at him with wide, stunned eyes. “Lavi--” Komui began. 

“We’re wrong, she’s not taking Allen to Beijing!” Lavi shouted, interrupting the other man. The silence that followed was hollow, ringing. Horrified. 

“I just got a telegram from the Bookman’s contacts.” He continued, unbidden. He strode across the room and shoved the Lenalee aside so he could get at the map laid out on the table. She let him. “They’re in--”

\----------

Finally--

Finally--

The door to the carriage opened. Allen huddled against the wall, blocking his eye from the burning light. 

“Allen Walker.” A female voice said, triumphant and cruel. “Welcome to St. Petersburg.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also something I find really funny--literally none of y'all have questioned Bao Lei's motives. Which means y'all are missing something huge. This is going to be a great. I'm so excited to wreck y'all
> 
> edit: FAHK I FORGOT LINK WAS A THING
> 
> edit2: I can't believe i keep forgetting to post this but hmu on tumblr if you want to talk about the fic?? iceeckos12 bros let's go


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: PLEASE NOTE: THERE IS TORTURE IN THIS CHAPTER. I'll be adding that tag as soon as I get this done, but I just thought I should let y'all know in case you miss it. If that makes you uncomfortable skip the third scene, the most important part of that section is the very last line anyway lmao.

They dragged Allen from the carriage, and he had to slam his eye shut against the piercing light of the sun. He startled and tried to jerk back when someone grabbed his head, but the grip was firm and too strong for him to resist. A blindfold was forced over his face, not that it would do much, considering he still couldn’t see anything. 

The world passed by in a terrifying blur of sound. There was a lot of people talking, their voices blending together until he could understand nothing at all. They were still leading him somewhere, hands clamped around his shoulder and his arm, and his feet caught over--other people’s feet? Thin air? He didn’t know. He didn’t know, and he was so sick of not knowing, of--

Of--

He stopped dead in his tracks when something cut through his fevered brain. He tipped his face toward the sky, because he could feel the _breeze_. He could feel the breeze, and there was warmth on his skin, too soft and real to be anything other than the sun. He was outside, and despite everything, this was an opportunity he didn’t want to waste. He had missed the sun. 

A gruff voice spoke directly into his ear, breaking through the wall of sound surrounding him and startling him out of his trance. “Keep up.” A pointed shove accompanied that a second later, almost sending him to the ground.

Allen shook his head and came back to himself, irritation almost overcoming his wild panic. “I am trying, if you would just stop _shoving_ me--”

Whoever it was shoved him again, because they were obviously an asshole. Allen remembered that he was at the mercy of this person, and shut his mouth. 

He could tell when they suddenly passed from the outside to the inside; the comforting touch of the sun disappeared from his skin, and the breeze was replaced by a blast of artificial warmth. The thick babble of voices faded into the distance, and from what he could tell, only one other person had followed them inside. That person didn’t say a word though--the only reason he knew they were there was the other set of light footsteps following just behind.

That silence made Allen nervous, but there was nothing he could do about it. Another shove from behind swiftly put any thought of asking questions out of his mind. 

They turned--left, right, left again, down a long stretch, up a set of stairs, Allen was beginning to lose track but he needed to know this, something ached in his chest at the thought of not knowing where he was--

Finally, finally, they stopped. There was a clicking sound as the tumbler of a lock turned over, and then Allen was pushed headfirst into...somewhere. A room? He didn’t have much time to puzzle it out, because the person leading him was turning his shoulders around, pushing him back, back--

He fell backwards when his knees unexpectedly ran into something, and he prepared himself for impact with the floor, but--

He landed in a chair instead, hard and unforgiving but there. He was so stunned that it took him a second to realize that his ankles were being firmly tied to the legs of the chair.

“H-Hey.” Allen finally said, jerking a foot. The person let out a low growl, but Allen was a little beyond caring at this point. “What’s--why--”

“Just shut your mouth, Noah.” The statement was accompanied by a vicious yank of the rope around his ankle. Allen winced as he lost all circulation in his left foot. 

“Careful.” A smooth, feminine voice warned. Allen lifted his head, fascinated--this must be the other person who had followed them inside. He couldn’t tell much from her voice, but... “We don’t want to kill him just yet.”

_Oh._ Allen swallowed hard, even as the rope around his ankle loosened with a muttered, “Yeah, whatever.”

He gathered his wits about him, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. He’d been...prepared for this. He’d expected this. 

“Bao Lei, I presume?” Allen asked in the direction of the voice, and the person who’d been tying his arm to the chair paused. 

The feminine voice was slow to respond, perhaps taken surprise by his observation, perhaps considering how to answer that. When she spoke, however, it wasn’t directed at him; rather at the person who’d finished tying down his arm. “Remove his blindfold.”

When the blindfold came off he was wholly unprepared for the bright, artificial light of the room. He let out a choked noise and turned his face into his shoulder, momentarily forgetting that there were two other people in the room who could see his weakness. 

He remembered when he heard Bao Lei order, “Turn off the lights!”

Behind his closed eyelid, the brightness flickered and died, leaving comforting, safe darkness. He heaved a breath of air, then another, trying to steady his racing heart, but--this was all too much. After weeks of traveling in that hated, confining Box, he now found all this stimulus to be too much. 

He took another second to catch his breath, before slowly, hesitantly, opening his eyes. 

Bao Lei stood before him. She...wasn’t anything like he’d been expecting, to be honest. She was young, in her late twenties, and in very good shape. Her dark hair was tied up in a severe bun on the top of her head, and her eyes glinted dangerously above her sharp cheekbones. She was dressed all in black leather, from her slim ankles to her rigid, angular shoulders. 

She didn’t look that dangerous, considering that she had been trying to hunt Allen down for the past few months. Considering that she had sent assassin after assassin after him and turned the rest of the world against him. 

The man who'd obviously been leading him around was equally unintimidating. He was imposing height, probably over six feet tall, and was built like a gorilla. His brow was dark, but there was little intelligence behind his beady black eyes. 

To anyone else the duo might have been imposing; however Allen Walker had faced Skin Boric, Tikki Mikk and Rhode Camelot. These two had nothing on the terrifying family of Noah that had tormented the exorcists of the Black Order for so long. 

Allen leaned back in the chair a little and shifted his arm. The rope wasn't impossible to get out of; just very difficult. 

“Well, you have me right where you want me.” He said finally, smiling wanly at her. “Aren’t you going to kill me?”

Bao Lei’s shark like eyes narrowed at him, and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “That will come later. First, I have a few questions for you.”

Allen frowned. He’d been under the impression that Bao Lei was just after the influence she would gain after executing him. What information did she want from him that she couldn’t possibly get from the Order? “Will answering your questions save me?” He asked cautiously. 

Bao Lei snorted. “Of course not. I would never let such a dangerous criminal as yourself go free.”

“Then I don’t see why I should answer any of your questions.” He rolled his eyes at the thought. After all the trouble she’d caused him, did she think that he was just going to roll over and comply with her every request?

“I was counting on that.” Bao Lei said, a slow smile curling across her face. 

Something about that smirk made Allen’s bravado curl up and get very nervous. 

“That’s why I’ll be having my good friend here soften you up a little before I talk to you.” She gestured back at the man still standing at the light. “Hopefully you will be more...amenable, after a few hours in his care.”

Ah. Allen thought, swallowing harshly. Torture. How...barbaric. 

It wasn’t as though he was afraid of pain. The majority of the war had been a exercise in ignoring pain; working through agony even as his arm disintegrated, ignoring broken bones in favor of protecting the people who needed him. It was just that torture was humiliating; there was no way to protect one’s dignity when someone taking a knife to one’s skin. At least he could’ve taken pride in a battle scar. 

Regardless, he would have to bear it. 

Bao Lei smirked at him, misinterpreting his expression of distaste for fear. “I’ll leave you two to it then, shall I?”

And then she was out the door.

\----------

_“...the Noah was apprehended on April 20th, just ten days ago, and has just now arrived in St. Petersburg, Russia. No details about the arrest have been given, though we assume that information will be given out as soon as Bao Lei, the leader of the opposition in the Asian Black Order, allows…”_

“...of course a paltry resistance has been given by Bak Chan of the Asian Order, and Komui Lee of the European Order. They have been insisting that the Noah is actually an exorcist from the war, one Allen Walker, which is ridiculous of course. Where is the proof? Of course they have none to give, even staged a false trial several months ago in an attempt to prove his innocence…”

_“...Bao Lei, our illustrious leader, has brought justice to the peoples of the Black Order! The final Noah will answer for his crimes against humanity! Long live Bao Lei…”_

_“...as of yet we have not heard when the execution date will be scheduled. We assume it will be soon, considering that the anniversary of the end of the war is coming up! Imagine the victory that would be, having the last living enemy executed on the anniversary….”_

Unable to listen to anymore, Komui flipped off the radio and put his head in his hands. 

“It’s, uh…” Reever began, searching for something comforting to say and finding nothing, of course. “It’s not good.” 

“Not good!” Komui shouted, unable to control his tone. “Allen is going to be executed if we can’t find him, and the world is--is celebrating!” 

Allen had been an incredible soldier, an amazing mind, and a wonderful friend. He’d lead by example: lifted them all up when they were down, never gave up even when situations seemed hopeless. The Black Order had been lucky to have him. And they were tearing him apart, this soldier who had bled for them and loved them with his whole heart. They were going to--to _murder_ Allen in cold blood, for no good reason whatsoever. The injustice of that was almost too much to bear. 

And they couldn’t stop it. 

“What are we supposed to do about it?” Reever said tiredly in return. “We don’t have anyone near St. Petersburg. And if we tried to stop it now, our own people would turn on us, you know that.”

Komui looked up at Reever, trying to work up the energy to be angry with the other man. But he just...couldn’t. Not when Reever looked so tired, his whole body drooping with exhaustion and the strain of the past few days. Not when he was right. 

“Reever…” Komui sighed, scrubbing his hand across his face. “Just...go get some sleep. Go to bed.” 

“Look who’s talking.” Reever shot back, and they sat like that for a moment in mulish silence, both unwilling to give ground. 

Neither of them had slept last night. Instead they’d been making frantic calls, throwing open maps and tracing paths through tiny streets, trying to figure out whether or not they could get to St. Petersburg by the end of the next day. They knew that Bao Lei wouldn’t put off executing Allen for too long; she was too smart for that. No. She’d solidify power as soon as she was able, sweep out the competition before they gained ground. 

But there had been nothing. 

She’d been too smart for them, too crafty. She’d picked the one city where both Komui and Bak Chan had no influence. Only a mole could’ve passed along that information, but that was no surprise, considering all the leaks that kept cropping up. 

They’d been outmaneuvered, completely and utterly. Allen would be getting no help from them. 

And damn him, damn Allen for thinking that leaving them would save them. Damn him for caring about others more than himself, damn him for being so selfish. Damn him for making tears streak down Link’s face at the thought of what Allen had done, damn him for making Lavi’s jaw clench in shame, damn him for making Kanda scream and tear at the world. Damn him for hurting Lenalee. 

Damn him for leaving. 

But that was opening a whole box of emotions that Komui didn’t dare touch, not now. If they got him back he could be as angry as he wished. But now they had to focus. 

“We could both go to sleep.” Komui suggested meekly, relenting a little. 

Reever watched Komui carefully through narrowed eyes, as though trying to figure out whether or not this was a trick. “...you won’t be reading or anything?”

“Cross my heart.” Komui actually physically crossed his own heart, smiling innocently at his right hand man. “No planning rescue attempts, no nothing.”

“You know you’re no use to Allen if you’re sleep deprived.” Reever reminded Komui gently. 

Komui was a little surprised at the tenderness in his voice, and slowly lowered his hand. He looked at Reever, really looked at him, and for the first time realized how truly exhausted Reever was. There was the lack of sleep, yes, but there was also the squinting eyes, evident of a tension headache, and the coffee stain on his jacket. _Silly man,_ Komui thought, with a touch of fondness, _Allen isn’t the only one he’s been worrying about, huh._

Out loud he said, honestly, “Of course Reever. Of course.” 

And Reever believed him. 

Several feet away, hiding in the shadows of the room as Reever led Komui away, Lenalee let out a soft sigh. She’d been waiting for her brother to leave for several hours now, and had actually started to get a bit worried. Reever was a blessing that Lenalee never took for granted, that was for sure. 

She stepped out into the empty office, and closed her eyes. 

Because Komui was right, of course. None of their operatives could get to St. Petersburg in time to stop the execution; the closest one was four days away. Not only that, but the roads were still recovering from a long, punishing winter; rock slides were frequent, making navigation tricky. It all added up to an impossible situation. 

Impossible to anyone but the Heart, that was. 

Lenalee lifted her head as bright light blasted from her shoes, sending streaks of white and gold across the bookshelves. The light splintered, fractured, and shot up her body, covering her in a thin layer of beautiful radiance. A sigh escaped her lips as power buzzed beneath her skin, and a strange wind began to pick up, sending her skirt and hair fluttering. 

The light faded--

\--And Lenalee activated Dark Boots for the first time since the war had ended. 

Lenalee opened her eyes, blinking white spots out of her vision. She stretched her calves, feeling the pleasant strain of her muscles as they took on the burden of her Innocence once more. It had been so long since she’d worn them, but they felt no less comfortable than they had so long ago. 

She would save Allen herself, or die trying. 

“You’re going, I take it.” 

Lenalee jumped and whipped around, startled. 

Link, Kanda, and Lavi stood behind her, in the doorway to the room. Link and Kanda were inscrutable, their expressions closed and distant, but Lavi was raising one red eyebrow at her, amused at her surprise. 

“I, uh…” Lenalee thought about coming up with an excuse, but thought better of it. She straightened up and looked on them all defiantly. “So what of it? I can get to St. Petersburg in two days. I can save Allen.” 

“And what will you do when you get there?” Link asked quietly, his eyes slightly red. “Do you plan to barge in and start making demands? Or fight your way through?”

“I am the Heart,” Lenalee snarled, taking a step back. “And they will listen to me.”

“Will they?” And it was Kanda this time, his voice a low snarl. “Will they really? What’s to stop them from just killing Allen as soon as they learn that you’re coming?”

She looked at the three of them, betrayed. They were ganging up on her, throwing all these doubts and question at her, and the worst part was that they were right. “What does it matter?” She burst out, her chin beginning to wobble despite her best efforts. “I have to try! I can’t just sit here and wait for Allen to get--to get…” She looked away, hiding her eyes behind her hair. 

“Lenalee--” There was a muffled sound, and when Lenalee looked up, both Kanda and Link were rubbing their arms and glaring at Lavi. He’d obviously punched them both. “--we didn’t mean to make you cry. That wasn’t the point.”

“Then what was it?” She shot back, feeling defensive and not very willing to listen to them. 

“We want to help you.” 

She stared at them, blinking. “...oh.”

“I can’t, in good conscience, let you take on this endeavor by yourself.” Link said, and a small smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. 

“Che. I want to have words with that idiot.” Kanda growled, but Lenalee could see through his false bravado easily. (On second thought, he did look genuinely pissed off. Maybe he really did want to have words with Allen.) 

Lenalee looked to Lavi, amazed. He just nodded at her, smiling. “We’re with you all the way.”

She looked between the three of them, stunned by the support that they were all showing. She shouldn’t have been surprised, though; these were the greatest soldiers of the war, the ones who had fought their hardest for the good of the people. They had been strong, and courageous, and no way would they have just let Lenalee go by herself. 

She let out a joyous laugh, swiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “What are we waiting for, then?”

Light burst inside of the room. Several seconds later, a streak of light shot from the top of the Black Order like a comet, heading West.

\--------

Allen’s head lolled on his chest, his chin resting on his collarbone. He wouldn’t have the strength to raise it, even if he’d wanted to. 

Bao Lei’s...man, whatever his name was, had been thorough. Except for Allen’s face, of course. Torture was bad for publicity. When they executed him, it would be quick, clean. Like putting down a rabid animal. A mercy. 

Allen giggled at the thought. Somewhere in the corner of his mind he knew that he was delirious, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. What did it matter, anyway? There was no dignity in torture. Ravaged mind, ravaged body. There almost wasn’t any difference. 

The man was still in the room, at his instrument table. He was polishing up the knives, _swishswishswish_ , cleaning Allen’s blood off of them. There was nothing to be done about the floor, though. That was probably a lost cause. 

He wasn’t very creative. Not like Rhode had been. No, Rhode had been oh-so-clever with her torture; there was nothing so interesting as having your fingernails removed by sharp, impossible candles. 

“Knives are boring.” He told the man, hardly noticing when his gutter trash accent crept into his voice. “Does it ever get old? Stabbing people with knives?” 

There was an audible pause in the man’s movement, before the swishing started up again. 

“Rhode liked candles.” Allen continued matter-of-factly, somehow unable to shut up now that he’d started talking. “She sharpened them down to little points and then stuck them in.” He sighed. “Put one in my eye.” 

There was another, longer pause in the man’s movements. Allen noted it with a rusty laugh. 

“Curious about that one, are you?” He rattled. “That’s not what happened to my eye. Mi…” He fumbled over his friend’s name. “Miranda, she...reversed it all. Pop!” Allen cackled. “Like it had never happened.” His frown turned more melancholy. “Not sure if there was a point to that, seeing as I lost it again anyway.”

“You’re insane.” It was the first thing the man had said to him since Bao Lei had left the room. Allen was delighted.

“Maybe so!” He said cheerfully. “Maybe so. But we won the war, didn’t we? Doesn’t matter anymore.”

Allen jerked back and choked off a scream when a knife suddenly slammed into his hand, pinning it to the arm of the chair. He heaved for air, unable to focus on anything except the sharp pain in his hand, the way it lit up his nerves every time he tried to move. If he'd had his other arm, his fingers would've been scrabbling for thin air. 

“ _You did not win the war._ ” Someone snarled in his ear, but he was almost too far gone to hear it. 

“That’s enough!” Someone else shouted, and--

Allen let out a sob when the knife was removed from his hand, his chin sinking back to his chest. He wanted to curl up in a corner and cry. He wanted to be back home on the couch, reading a book while Lavi and Kanda bickered over his head. Most of all, he just wanted all the pain to _stop._

A hand dug into his shoulder, just inches away from a slash that extended from the base of his collarbone to his hip. He felt blood gush from the wound, and wondered how much more he could lose before bloodloss finally killed him. 

Hot air puffed just inches from his face. When he opened his eye, a fuzzy image of Bao Lei stared back at him, lips curled into a fierce snarl. “Have you had enough yet?”

“The war is over,” He mumbled, unable to focus on her face. The words felt dead on his lips. “It’s all over. What…” Blood gargled in his throat, and he had to work to keep from spitting it onto Bao Lei's cheek. “What could you possibly want to know?”

And that was the kicker, wasn’t it? The war had ended. It made sense to execute a Noah; that was the Black Order's worst enemy, after all. But why did they need information? The only reason Allen could think of was if she wanted something on the European Order, but that was equally strange. Allen had been in Berlin for several long months, and had been in minimal contact with Komui. There was nothing that he could tell her that she didn’t already know. 

Bao Lei slammed his shoulder into the chair, and for a second he was worried that it would pop right out. “I said, are you ready to answer my question?”

_Question?_

Allen blinked a couple times, trying to get her expression to come into focus. It was a lost cause, of course. 

Question? As in singular?

“You can ask it.” He said after a moment, now more curious than anything. “I don’t know if I’ll have an answer.” 

His eye cleared for just a second, and he _saw_. 

He hadn't noticed at first, considering that she'd been standing so far away the first time they'd met. But now, with her face just inches from his, Allen could make out every little detail. Bao Lei’s breath was sour with alcohol, and her eyes were alight with some nameless agony. For the first time, Allen realized that there was something wrong with her; in the greasy fibers of her hair, in the deep shadows on her face. There was something else going on here, other than the war, other than this fight they’d all been fighting. 

This was personal. 

And then, Bao Lei spat something that he’d never expected to hear, not in a million years. 

“Where. Is. My. _Daughter?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no editing we post our rough drafts like men


	22. Chapter 22

Allen stared at Bao Lei blankly. 

“Your what?” He asked faintly, the throbbing in his hand suddenly a minor inconvenience rather than an agonizing pain. He turned to look at the man still hovering at his table of torture tools, and repeated, “Her what?”

Bao Lei apparently did not appreciate that, because she curled her fingers tighter in his shirt and slammed him against the chair again. Her sour breath wafted over his face like a wave of smoke, and it was all he could do not to gag at the smell. “I said where is my _daughter_ , you _swine!_ ” 

Not for the first time, Allen wished that his hand was free of the rope, but for a different reason than before. Now he wanted to shove Bao Lei’s face, crumpled in tight anger, away from his. She was just too close, spittle spattering across his cheeks with every venomous word. He just wanted some space. 

“I can’t answer that until you give me more information.” Allen tried diplomatically, flexing his hand in the rope. “Like, uh. When would this have been? And where?”

Bao Lei snarled wordlessly, but backed off. He felt as though he could finally breathe. 

The woman turned away and began pacing, agitated, around the room. As she moved, she bit out, “A little Chinese girl. Three years ago, on the coast of China.”

Allen tilted his head back and forth, trying to remember. However, the picture wasn’t quite adding up. Three years ago...what had been going on during that time? He didn’t think he’d been a Noah at that point. The timeline was all wrong. “I hate to tell you this,” He said slowly, “But I honestly don’t think that Ne--the Fourteenth was responsible for that. I was still in control at that point.”

Allen blinked, and then Bao Lei was suddenly across the room and in his face again, a short knife just centimeters from his only eye. He froze, swallowing hard, and tried to remember how to breathe. 

“You and the Fourteenth are one and the same.” She hissed, but it was a distant buzz in his ears. Nothing else mattered but that knife, so close to blinding him permanently. He couldn’t bear to be trapped in darkness, not again, not after just having escaped the _box_ \-- “Do not pretend otherwise.”

“Okay.” He whispered quickly, not daring to nod like he really wanted to. “Okay, okay, please just--just move the knife, please--” 

She tilted her head at him consideringly for a second, which did nothing for his frayed nerves. Then a smile began to spread across her face, small at first but growing into something dark and malicious. That _really_ did nothing to help his frayed nerves. 

“Does this scare you?” She crooned, tilting the knife so it caught shards of light on its silver blade. Allen followed its every movement with wide, terrified eyes, his breath caught somewhere in his chest where he couldn’t even think of retrieving it. Then she jerked the knife forward-- 

Allen lost….a few seconds. 

A minute?

He didn’t know. One second he was watching the dancing knife, and the next it was lunging for his eye, and…

He blinked sluggishly, trying to fight against the tide of sheer terror roiling within him. He was losing himself, he could feel it, his sanity slipping with every new weight forced upon his already burdened mind. Being trapped in the box for several weeks had almost destroyed him, and the... _treatment_ he was getting was only making it worse. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take before he just...shut down. 

_Hold on,_ he pleaded with himself, _come on, Allen, hold on._

_Hold on for what?_ His mind whispered back. _More pain?_

It would be easier to just...let himself fade. 

He blinked again, and finally noticed that Bao Lei was saying something, her voice a muted hum, barely out of earshot. But she was right in front of him, he could see her mouth moving as she spoke…he should probably tune back in, but he didn’t want to. 

He didn’t want be here. 

Then something cracked, and his head jerked to one side without his permission, cheek stinging angrily. _She slapped me,_ He realized, and the pain centered him, brought his mind back to the present. 

“Pay attention when I’m talking!” Bao Lei shouted. To Allen’s relief, she’d put the knife away. “I said, tell me where my daughter is!”

It took him a second to find his voice, but it was soft and defeated when it came out. “I don’t know. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Three years ago.” Bao Lei repeated, but her voice had taken on a different tone than before. Was she…?

Allen lifted his head as much as he could, and his eye widened. Bao Lei, his arch nemesis, the woman who’d made his life a living hell, was crying. She was doing it in a complete, odd silence; she didn’t sniffle once, and her voice barely trembled with the emotion that she was obviously feeling. But there were definitely tears cutting tracks down her face. 

“A Fallen attacked my village, three years ago.” She continued. Allen was almost too stunned to hear what she was saying. “A Fallen by the name of Suman Dark. According to the report done by Asia’s branch, you were there. They never found her body, but you. _Were. There._ Now where the hell is she? What did you do with her?”

Suman...Dark?

The name was...so familiar. 

Allen felt something pulse in his mind, something achingly familiar. A sucking sensation, like quicksand at his feet, trying to pull him into the inky blackness that was his soul. It was the feeling he got whenever he’d forgotten something, when something poked at the hole in his memories. 

His vision flickered, but he shook his head sharply, trying to stay afloat. 

He knew something--or, he had known something. He just needed to remember...

“Suman Dark?” He whispered, feeling as though he was floating outside of himself, looking from the outside in. “Who…what happened?” 

His eyesight flickered again. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted iron, and everything cleared, just a little. 

“What do you mean what happened?” Bao Lei demanded distantly, the grey fuzzing across the world making her expression incomprehensible. “It was--the mission! When you were assigned to track down Marian Cross! There was a Fallen there, and according to the report you were the one who stopped him.”

Mission?

Allen’s grip on reality was loosening; he could feel himself beginning to sink, down, down into himself. But this was--important, there was a little girl who was missing her mother, and a mother who was missing her little girl, and he needed to just--just think--

But it was so hard--

_A train, flying down the tracks, smoke streaming like a banner behind them. Allen watched it fly by, wistful, and he was half-blind but it wasn’t permanent, it would only last until--_

“Was that when…” His voice trailed off, because there are memories nipping at the threads of his consciousness. 

_Arystar Krory, missing most of his clothes, looked up at him with a wet eyes and a wet nose. The other men were beaming, their mischievous grins hidden behind their cards, and Allen sighed. That isn’t very nice, he thinks, and tugs at his gloves, I’ll have to win it all back now--_

_Chaoji and Anita, and Miss--Miss--the big woman with the huge muscles, he can’t remember her name, but he--_

Can’t--

_Remember--_

Allen’s eyes flew open. 

_Eyes,_ he murmured to himself, blinking at the broken, scattered moon above him. He experimentally flexed his fingers, and was rewarded with the sensation of two hands digging into thick grass. 

Allen sat up slowly, taking in the world around him as he did so. 

He was sitting in the middle of a field of flowers--well, if one could call it a field. The grass extended only a couple of yards in each direction, and a good portion of the field was wilting and brown. Up above, the sky was a black so pitch that it appeared to suck all light into it, except for the light of the shattered moon. 

He...knew this place. 

Allen rose to his feet, looking around at the field which had once extended as far as the eye could see. The pool where he had sat in front of was missing, as was the chair where Neah had tied him down, and…

The sky above him rumbled. 

Allen jumped at the noise, turning to stare at the moon. He didn’t see anything that had caused the disturbance, but….

And then there was a sigh, a hush of not-sound that skittered at the edges of his mind and made something tense in his stomach. 

Allen looked around curiously, trying to discern the source of the odd feeling. But then--

He gasped quietly as the feeling intensified--and he didn’t know what it was, or what was happening, but somehow he knew that it was coming from within--doubling over at the squeezing sensation in his body, compressing him. He dropped to his knees, gasping for air, as he got smaller and smaller and smaller and _smaller_ \--

And just like that, the sensation stopped. 

Allen opened his eyes slowly, and jumped when he realized that someone was standing in front of him. Or rather...Allen was standing in front of him. 

Allen was...standing in front of him. 

“You’re...my soul.” Allen realized slowly, narrowing his eyes at the doppleganger. 

The Soul stared down at him with curious eyes, and sent a whimsical affirmative through their connection. 

Allen had never met his own soul before. He’d known, logically, that he must have one, but Neah had always kept it locked away from him. They were basically identical to each other; same bright grey eyes, same silver hair, same pale skin. The only difference was that his Soul’s body lacked all of his scars, of which he had many. 

It was...a very strange experience, to say the least. Surreal, even. 

“Ah…” He began, uncertain as how to broach the subject. “Why...am I here, exactly?”

The Soul tilted their head to one side, thinking about that question. Allen didn’t really think that it merited that much consideration, but he was not about to say anything. 

Then the Soul sent--

_"I haven't fixed all the damage." The Soul admitted uneasily, letting the manifestation of Memories fall back into the depths of itself. It ran it's hands through it's white hair, face twisting into a grimace. "If this place gets a really big shock, it'll shatter. I'll have to start from scratch to rebuild, which would...not be a good idea, I think."_

Allen absorbed the memory, blinking as his mind once more became his own. A chill ran through him as he finally comprehended what he was being told, and he looked at the field once more. He felt as though he was seeing it for the first time. 

“This...this is why I’ve been having so much trouble since I got back.” He whispered. “This is what’s causing my--my emotions to be out of control.” 

It made sense, though. He’d never had so much trouble with his thoughts, his emotions, his self-esteem as he had after the War. He should’ve known that it was because his Soul was still trying to pull itself back together, trying to repair the damage that had been inflicted upon it by Neah. The War had done his mental state no favors; Neah had been like an explosion beneath an already fragile building. 

He wasn’t crazy. His mental state was unstable, and every hardship rattled his already shaky frame. _He wasn’t crazy._

The Soul walked forward and laid a hand on his shoulder, face sympathetic and kind. Allen leaned into the touch, and a second later the Soul’s forehead knocked against his. 

He shut his eyes and breathed out shakily. He was so tired….

“It’s so painful.” He whispered. “I don’t...I don’t want to be there anymore.”

There was no response, but when he cracked his eyes open, there were tears streaming down his Soul’s face. 

These were...his true emotions. The Soul couldn’t push things down and avoid feeling like he could; his Soul was the thing crying out when he ran himself ragged just to avoid thinking. 

“I just want….” Allen breathed out, and he didn’t know where this was coming from but all he knew was that his chest was tight and his head hurt-- “I just want to be safe. I just want to have a life of my own. I just wish everyone would _go away.”_

His Soul still said nothing, sent nothing, just stared at him with those teary grey eyes. 

The surrealness of the whole situation reoccurred to him in that moment; he was standing here, in the field of his soul, his forehead pressed against the manifestation of his Soul. His Soul was crying thick, bloated tears, and Allen was letting all his inner pain and frustration spill out. This was perhaps one of the strangest things that had ever happened to him, and that was saying something. 

He laughed wetly, and of course his Soul wasn’t surprised, because they were one and the same. Instead, they just quirked a smile, wry and sad, not looking away from Allen. 

He closed his eyes again, and sighed lowly. Despite all that, despite everything...“...I came here for a reason, though.”

The Soul took a step back, and Allen was sad at the loss of the gentle touch on his forehead. They gave him a lost, helpless look, their shoulders hunched and defeated. There was nothing he could say to reassure them, though because they knew what his plan was. They knew, and they couldn’t do anything about it, because Allen wouldn’t be Allen if he didn’t make this choice. 

Even if this destroyed his mind, he didn’t care. 

There was a mother out there, looking for her daughter. There was a daughter out there, missing her mother. 

Allen would not be Allen if he didn’t try to help them. 

So he turned away from his Soul, approaching the fractured edges of his mind, and peered over into the darkness. He took a deep breath, trying to gather his courage, and then--

He jumped. 

The Soul stood there for a second, their tear-stained face unreadable and still. Then they dropped to their knees and grabbed at themself, doing their best to stay together. 

The world trembled. 

\----

_Where am I?_

_It’s...it’s so dark...what was I doing…?_

A single thought pierced his singular existence. 

_Suman Dark._

_Who is that? Who is Suman Dark? Do we know?_

_We should. I think we should know who that is. Why don’t we know who that is?_

There was...something on the ground in front of him. Tiny shards, their edges sharp and vibrant with color, infinitely precious and infinitely sad. They were...important, he knew. He thought. 

_They will help us understand._

He plucked one of the shards from the ground, wincing as the sharp edge sliced through one of his fingers. He slowly turned the little object over in his hands, marveling at the patterns on the surface. Thick black, swirled with pearlescent white, practically glowing it was so pure…

And suddenly he heard the roar of wind, and he was being buffeted by great gusts of air. When he opened his eyes there was a monster before him, bulbous and terrifying. A great white monster, and he could taste exhilaration and fear in equal measure in his mouth, and his body felt young and strong, and there was a dark shape beside him that he couldn’t quite make out but it felt a lot like home--

Suman Dark. 

_This is Suman Dark?_

_No, this is part of Suman Dark. We have to find the rest of him._

_Why?_

There was no response. 

He reached for the next shard.

This one had the outline of a person in it; he could tell because of the defined muscles, the obvious swell of biceps. The skin was deeply tanned, and he squinted at the image, trying to--

There was a woman--Miss Mahoja--standing over him, staring down her well-defined nose. He hadn’t thought that she was a woman at first, having never seen one with such impressive, rippling muscles, but he was soon corrected of that mistake. Though she looked hard on the outside, her eyes softened considerably when they landed on her mistress-- _Anita_ \--

He examined the shard for a second. That wasn’t of Suman Dark. And yet, something made him set the piece reverently aside, and his head told him debt and responsibility. It wasn’t important for finding Suman Dark, but it was important to him. 

He searched for what felt like hours, experiencing the shards and the strange, too-real visions they held. The other shards, the ones that weren’t related to Suman Dark but were still relevant sat beside him, and he was comforted by their presence. They told him that he was special, that he’d had friends and people who loved him. 

The shards of Suman Dark...he’d slotted them together until his fingers bled, until his mind ached with knowledge. And now he knew that...

 _The dark shape is Lenalee, and her hair is still long and her dark boots are different, he doesn’t know how but they are. She smells like sweet flowers and the air right after it rains, and she feels like belonging. The enormous monster is Suman Dark, but he wasn’t always a monster, he’s got a little girl that he wants to go home to and that’s what did this to him. He just wants to live but he had to make a deal with the devil to do so, and the Innocence turned on him. There’s also a girl, a little girl trapped in the monster, and somehow she is Important._

He turned the memory over in his mind, puzzling over it. He knew that it was important; he knew that he needed to know it. But he wasn’t sure why. 

_It’s time to come back._

He lifted his head. 

_Come back where?_

Something pulled at him, very gently. He looked up. 

There was...a light. It was calling to him. 

_Is that you?_

_Yes. Come home._

Allen reached up, and let his Soul pull him back to the surface. 

\----

Allen shot upright. 

He was...in the field of flowers again. But that was unimportant. 

Allen probed the new memory in his mind, amazed that he’d managed to retrieve it. He didn’t know how long it had taken--hours? Days?--but now he knew exactly what Bao Lei had been speaking of. He knew where to find the little girl. 

He looked about him, and quickly spotted his Soul. They sat before him, watching his face with oddly unreadable eyes, their posture tense and unhappy. That gave him pause, but he quickly shook off the brief flash of guilt. 

“I need to wake up.” He demanded, his legs wobbling as he rose to his feet. “Get me out of here, I need to tell her.”

The Soul looked skyward, but Allen kept his gaze firmly down. He knew what he’d see if he looked at the moon. 

“We don’t have much time.” He said pointedly, gritting his teeth a little. 

The Soul rewarded him with a dry eyebrow raise, and made their displeasure known in a swirl of stormy emotion. Allen weathered the mental assault as best he could, and did not relent. He couldn’t, not after he’d destroyed himself to bring Bao Lei news of her daughter. 

Besides, his Soul knew why he had had to do it. His Soul knew that there wasn’t any other option for him, even as they railed against it. 

They stared at him for a second, before sighing tiredly. They flicked their hands, and just like that, Allen was gone. 

Above them, the shattered moon began to fall. 

\-----

Christian Magnussen was coming to the grudging, uncomfortable realization that he had misjudged the Fourteenth Noah. If this really was the Fourteenth Noah, that is. 

This was what he knew for sure:

1\. The Fourteenth Noah was an enemy. He had apparently had pitch black hair, and marks of the Noah across his forehead. He had been ruthless and brutal, relentless in his destruction of both the Noah and the Exorcists. 

2\. Bao Lei had told him that the strange white-haired boy was the Fourteenth Noah in disguise, which made sense. The Black Order had reeled with the news that Allen Walker, Destroyer of Time, had defected. He was a traitor. It made sense that they were one and the same, except…

Christian had transported this boy, this child, across Eastern Europe in what essentially amounted to a sensory deprivation chamber. He had been alright with it, simply because the Fourteenth Noah was a psychopath and deserved no better. Then he’d actually caught sight of the ‘Fourteenth’.

Christian gritted his teeth. 

The first time he had seen the child, with his silver hair and his too-thin shoulders, staring out across the river with that wistful expression on his face...it had been as though someone had sucked the air right out of him. This was who he was supposed to be fighting? This skinny child, too-pale and too-thin with ancient eyes, was the scourge of the Black Order?

He’d told himself not to fall for the innocent act, that this was the enemy and he couldn’t be taken in, but…

The Fourteenth had never said an unkind word to Christian or Liang, despite the barren space he existed in. When Liang had yanked on the chain attached to the boy’s leg in the middle of the Inn, he’d just bowed his head and bit his lip. It had been a public humiliation, and even Christian had cringed at the indignity of it, but the Fourteenth’s reaction had been demure and obedient. 

And nearing the end of their journey, even Liang had been watching the boy with his dark, shrewd eyes. When the boy had bowed his head over the soft fabric of the bed, his face as serene and relieved as it had ever been, Liang and Christian had shared an uncertain glance, because one thing was also for certain:

This was not how it was supposed to be. 

And now he was sitting here, watching the sleeping Fourteenth through the bars of the cell they’d put him in. Thinking. Considering what he knew, and trying to slot these new facts in with the old ones. 

1\. The Fourteenth Noah was the enemy. 

Well, that was a given. There was no refuting that. 

2\. This white-haired boy is the Fourteenth Noah. 

Was he though? Bao Lei had told them that, and they had believed her because she was their leader. She had been an exorcist during the war, and they had been her finders, and she had never led them wrong before. However Christian also knew that she had a massive blind spot, and that was when it came to her missing daughter. He had seen her do some...questionable things for the sake of finding her child, and while he had turned a blind eye to it before…

If she thought that someone had something to do with the disappearance of Ying Yue, would she do her best to tear them to the ground? 

Christian felt slightly sick when he realized that the answer was yes, absolutely. 

But Bao Lei wouldn’t lie to them, would she? She was relentless when trying to reach her goals, yes, but she was moral as well, and so strong. She wouldn’t save her own child by making a bane of another. 

Right?

Christian was startled out of his deep, roiling thoughts when the Fourteenth shot straight up, gasping for air like a beached fish. Then the boy tilted to one side and off the bed, landing hard on his shoulder. 

Christian gaped for a second, too stunned by what he was seeing to react. And then he moved. 

By the time he’d opened the cell, the Fourteenth was on his hand and knees, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the floor. He was visibly unsteady, his arms and legs shaking like they were under some great weight. Sweat beaded down his pale forehead, and his eye was darting about aimlessly.

“Come on, Fourteenth,” He muttered, grabbing the thin shoulders and lifting him back onto the bed, away from the sick on the floor. Christian would have to go and inform Bao Lei that the prisoner had woken up, but for now he could at least keep the Fourteenth from wallowing in that mess. “Up you get, come on.” 

The boy’s eye focused on him, going from vacant to intense in a split second. Christian froze, feeling like a bug pinned under a microscope, suddenly remembering that this boy was a potential enemy. 

Then the Fourteenth’s hand reached out and grabbed his arm just above his elbow. This grip wasn’t particularly strong, but Christian suddenly felt as though he was being held by the hand of God himself. 

And then, the Fourteenth rasped, “Ask...Lenalee.” 

“Lena--the Heart?” Christian repeated, startled. “Ask her what?”

The grip on his arm tightened a little. “She knows...where the girl is. Ask Lenalee.” 

Christian recoiled a little. _Bao Lei’s daughter?_ “Wait, why would Lenalee know where she is? What do you--hey!” He had to lunge forward to catch the Fourteenth when his eye suddenly rolled back into his head. 

Christian lowered the boy back to the bed, his mind reeling with that new information. Why would Lenalee know where Bao Lei’s daughter was? The Heart had been on the mission to find Cross with the Fourteenth, yes, but there were no reports of her fighting Suman Dark. For that matter, why had the Fourteenth told him that in the first place? He was their enemy, wasn't he? So why was he helping them?

What was going on?

That was when Christian realized that the Fourteenth was beginning to twitch spastically, his eye rolling about under his pale eyelid. It took him a moment to realize that the boy was having a seizure, and what the _hell--_

Even as Christian screamed down the hallway for a medic, his mind was racing. 

There was something going on here that he didn’t understand. It was like looking at a puzzle where half the pieces were missing, so he couldn't see the full picture. And Christian, well--

He had never been one to let a stone go unturned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did anyone guess it? B)
> 
> Anyway I just wanted to thank you all for the response to the last chapter, that was super amazing. I loved reading all of your comments!!

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I was planning on post this thing as a oneshot, but then it got to thirty thousand words and I was like HAH. No. So I'll be posting the work notes as soon as I post the last chapter, whenever that is. The work is getting longer and longer NOOOOO......Cross posted on my ffn account.


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